“Believe that I am—­sorry,” she whispered.  “Will you believe it?  I did not know; I did not dream of it.”

His face changed as though something within him was being darkly aroused.

“After all,” he said, “no man ever lived who could kill hope.”

“There is no hope to kill—­”

“No chance, Shiela?”

“There has never been any chance—­” She was trembling; he took both her hands.  They were ice cold.

He straightened up, squaring his shoulders.  “This won’t do,” he said.  “I’m not going to distress you—­frighten you again.”  The smile he forced was certainly a credit to him.

“Shiela, you’d love me if you could, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes,” with a shiver.

“Then it’s all right and you mustn’t worry....  Can’t we get back to the old footing again?”

“N-no; it’s gone.”

“Then we’ll find even firmer ground.”

“Yes—­firmer ground, Mr. Hamil.”

He released her chilled hands, swung around, and took a thoughtful step or two.

“Firmer, safer ground,” he repeated.  “Once you said to me, ’Let us each enjoy our own griefs unmolested.’” He laughed.  “Didn’t you say that—­years ago?”

“Yes.”

“And I replied—­years ago—­that I had no griefs to enjoy.  Didn’t I?  Well, then, if this is grief, Shiela, I wouldn’t exchange it for another man’s happiness.  So, if you please, I’ll follow your advice and enjoy it in my own fashion....  Shiela, you don’t smile very often, but I wish you would now.”

But the ghost of a smile left her pallor unchanged.  She moved toward the stairs, wearily, stopped and turned.

“It cannot end this way,” she said; “I want you to know how—­to know—­to know that I—­am—­sensible of w-what honour you have done me.  Wait!  I—­I can’t let you think that I—­do not—­care, Mr. Hamil.  Believe that I do!—­oh, deeply.  And forgive me—­” She stretched out one hand.  He took it, holding it between both of his for a moment, lightly.

“Is all clear between us, Calypso dear?”

“It will be—­when I have courage to tell you.”

“Then all’s well with the world—­if it’s still under-foot—­or somewhere in the vicinity.  I’ll find it again; you’ll be good enough to point it out to me, Shiela....  I’ve an engagement to improve a few square miles of it....  That’s what I need—­plenty of work—­don’t I, Shiela?”

The clear mellow horn of a motor sounded from the twilit lawn; the others were arriving.  He dropped her hand; she gathered her filmy skirts and swiftly mounted the great stairs, leaving him to greet her father and Gray on the terrace.

“Hello, Hamil!” called out Cardross, senior, from the lawn, “are you game for a crack at the ducks to-morrow?  My men report Ruffle Lake full of coots and blue-bills, and there’ll be bigger duck in the West Lagoons.”

“I’m going too,” said Gray, “also Shiela if she wants to—­and four guides and that Seminole, Little Tiger.”