“Why, I should love it!  There’s no end of things I want to show you.  And we can make it all snug before Bertie and the boys come.  But, of course”—­she became suddenly serious—­“I must have Cinders with me.”

“Oh, we won’t exclude Cinders,” he said.

She laughed—­the gay, sweet laugh he loved to hear.  “That’s settled, then.  And you’ll make Aunt Philippa promise not to tell, for of course that would spoil everything.  Oh, and Trevor, you won’t discuss Bertrand with her?  Promise!”

He looked at her keenly for a moment, met only the coaxing confidence of her eyes, and decided to ask no question.

“My dear,” he said, “as far as Bertrand is concerned, your Aunt Philippa and I have nothing to discuss.”

“That’s all right,” said Chris, with relief.  “Trevor, you’ve done me a lot of good.  You are quite the most comforting man I know.  I’m not frightened any more, and I’ll never be such a little idiot again as long as I live.”

She rose with the words, stood a moment with her hand on his shoulder, then stooped and shyly kissed his forehead.

“You always understand,” she said.  “And I love you for it.  There!”

“I am glad, dear,” he said gently.

But he did not look particularly elated notwithstanding.  There had been moments in their recent conversation when, so far from understanding her, he had felt utterly and completely at a loss.  He had not the heart to tell her so, for he knew that she was quite incapable of explaining herself; but the fact remained.  And he wondered with a vague misgiving if he had yet succeeded—­if, indeed, he ever would wholly succeed—­in finding his way along the many intricate windings that led to her inmost heart.

CHAPTER XVI

MARRIED

It was certainly the quietest wedding of the season.  People said that this was due to the bridegroom’s well-known dislike of publicity; but, whatever the reason, the secret was well kept, and when Chris came out of the church on her husband’s arm there was only Bertrand, standing uncovered by the carriage-door, to give her greeting.

She was smiling as she came, but it was rather a piteous smile.  She had faced the ordeal with a desperate courage, but she had not found it easy.  Only Trevor’s steadfast strength had held her up.  She had been conscious of his will acting upon hers throughout.  With the utmost calmness he had quelled her agitation, had stilled the wild flutter of her nerves, had compelled her to a measure of composure.  And now that it was over she felt that he was still in a fashion holding her back, controlling her, till she should have recovered her normal state of mind and be in a condition to control herself.

But the sight of Bertrand diverted her thoughts.  Owing to her aunt’s strenuous prohibition, she had not met him since the night of her birthday dance.  She broke from Mordaunt to give him both her hands.