Max put his Greek Testament in his pocket and regarded me dubiously.

’Were you not coming to meet me, then?  It is not a quarter to six yet.  Rather early for an aimless stroll, is it not, my dear?’

‘Oh yes, I was coming to meet you,’ I returned carelessly.  ’I thought you would be at work in the garden.  Max, you are eying me suspiciously:  you think I have something important to tell you.  Now you must not be disappointed; I have very little to say, and I cannot answer questions; but there is one thing, I have found out all you wish to know about Captain Hamilton.’

It was sad to see the quick change in his face,—­the sudden cloud that crossed it at the mention of the man whom he regarded as his rival.  He did not speak; not a question came from his lips; but he listened as though my next word might be the death-warrant to his hopes.

’Max, do not look like that:  there is no cause for fear.  It is a great secret, and you must never speak of it, even to me,—­but Lady Betty is engaged to her cousin Claude.’

For a moment he stared at me incredulously.  ’Impossible! you must have been deceived,’ I heard him mutter.

‘On the contrary, I leave other people to be duped,’ was my somewhat cool answer.  ’You need not doubt my news:  Gladys is my informant:  only, as I have just told you, it is a great secret.  Mr. Hamilton is not to know yet, and Gladys writes most of the letters.  Poor little Lady Betty is in constant terror that she will be found out, and they are waiting until Captain Hamilton has promotion and comes home in November.’

He had not lost one word that I said:  as he stood there, bareheaded, in the morning sunshine that was tingeing his beard with gold, I heard his low, fervent ‘Thank God! then it was not that;’ but when he turned to me his face was radiant, his eyes bright and vivid; there was renewed hope and energy in his aspect.

’Ursula, you have come like the dove with the olive-branch.  Is this really true?  It was good of you to come and tell me this.’

‘I do not see the goodness, Max.’

’Well, perhaps not; but you have made me your debtor.  I like to owe this to you,—­my first gleam of hope.  Now, you must tell me one thing.  Does Miss Darrell know of this engagement?’

‘She does.’

’Stop a moment:  I feel myself getting confused here.  I am to ask no questions:  you can tell me nothing more.  But I must make this clear to myself:  How long has she known, Ursula? a day? a week?’

‘Suppose you substitute the word months,’ I observed scornfully.  ’I know no dates, but Miss Darrell has most certainly been acquainted with her cousin’s engagement for months.’

‘Oh, this is worse than I thought,’ he returned, in a troubled tone.  ’This is almost too terrible to believe.  She has known all I suffered on that man’s account, and yet she never undeceived me.  Can women be so cruel?  Why did she not come to me and say frankly, “I have made a mistake; I have unintentionally misled you:  it is Lady Betty, not Gladys, who is in love with her cousin”?  Good heavens! to leave me in this ignorance, and never to say the word that would put me out of my misery!’