As for the practical young man, he had locked his door, and thrown himself on the ground. James Herbert's words had impressed him, and perhaps his faith in Eugenia's faith was not so great as he fancied. To-morrow he would know the verdict. He felt sure that if his letter remained unanswered for twenty-four hours James Herbert had spoken the truth. Miss Herbert found her brother a true prophet. Sir Ralph Norgate offered his hand, and when the offer was refused, told her he did not mean to accept her answer as final. She did not, on her part, say anything about her love being given elsewhere. Then Gerald's letter came, and following her brother's advice she did think everything over; she sat for hours trying to nerve herself to answer the letter as love and faith demanded. She loved him. Had he been present her indecision would soon have vanished; but, as it was, she could reflect fully on what an answer to his letter must mean--alienation of all her friends--an end of social ambition--many years, if not a life, of poverty. Eugenia shuddered as she thought of the consequences, and wished that she and Gerald had never met. She wished moreover, that the temptations of rank and wealth held out by her other suitor were less. What would Gerald do if his letter was not answered? If she could but persuade herself that her brother's estimate of his character was the right one! Possibly it might be; James knew mankind well. If she could but think so--could believe that Gerald would forget--she might then find it easier to be wise, and, by taking him at his word, save herself and perhaps him from what must insure unhappiness. So she reasoned--so she excused her half-meditated treason--so she persuaded herself it would eventually be better for both if they parted. Yet all the while she knew she loved Gerald Leigh as she could love no other man. In this mental conflict the day passed and night found the letter unanswered. Then James Herbert came to her. "Eugenia, have you replied to that letter?" She shook her head. "Give it to me," he said. She did so. It was a relief to get rid of it. He tore it into fragments. "There," he said. "I knew I could trust your good sense. There is an end of the affair. It is a secret between you and me, and I shall never again allude to it." For good or ill the die was cast. She had freed herself. But she had left the room with swimming eyes, and went to Mrs. Cathcart. "Aunt," she cried, "will you take me abroad--for a long time?" It was hard for Mrs. Cathcart to be called upon to give up the rest of the London season. But then Mr. Herbert's recent death prevented her going out much, and it was paramount that Eugenia's future should be satisfactorily disposed of. So the excellent woman sacrificed herself at once. "I will take you abroad, Eugenia, if you will promise to be Sir Ralph's wife."