, and reasoned and pleaded as calmly as I could. It was of no avail. She made me twice repeat the promise to live with her when she was married, and then suddenly asked a question which turned my sorrow and my sympathy for her into a new direction.

“While we were at Polesdean,” she said, “you had a letter, Marian⁠—”

Her altered tone⁠—the abrupt manner in which she looked away from me and hid her face on my shoulder⁠—the hesitation which silenced her before she had completed her question, all told me, but too plainly, to whom the half-expressed inquiry pointed.