Jerry's friends would have called him 'a muff,' to sigh as he did, and make himself 'a blighted being' for Ida, whose whole heart and soul seemed devoted to another, and who sorrowed as some women only sorrow over their dead, going through the world with one visionary yet formed fancy that floated drearily and vaguely in her memory. Yet, in spite of himself, Jerry Vane hovered near the sad one like a love-bird by the nest of its young. It was impossible that the love of this faithful, honest, and good-hearted fellow should fail to impress Ida. She was conscious that his fate was a cruel one, and of her own making; and she felt a great pity for him; for although she _had_ been fickle once, her nature was generous and compassionate. A dead flirtation can seldom be revived, but an old love is often rekindled; yet Ida bore him none as yet; it was only pity, as we have said--compunction for what she had done--a tenderness, nothing more, save, perhaps, a sense of honour for him, that gave Jerry Vane an indefinable and, it may be, dangerous attraction to her; and now, as he spoke to her, bending over her as he used to do of old, her dark blue eyes changed and shadowed with the changing thoughts that passed quickly through her mind. 'We are good friends as ever,' said she, smiling upward in reply to some remark of his. 'Ida, some one has written that after love, mere friendship becomes more cruel than hate, and says it is the worst cruelty "when we seek love--as a stone proffered to us when we ask for bread in famine."' Jerry felt that in this remark he had made somewhat of a 'header;' but fanning herself, she said calmly: 'I _believe_ in you, Mr. Vane; is not that the highest trust one creature can give another?' 'May I not implore you to call me Jerry, as--as of old?' he asked, in a tremulous voice. 'When alone--yes.' 'Mr. Vane sounds so odiously formal after--after----' his lip quivered. 'Well--Jerry it shall be.' 'Thanks, dear, dear Ida; I begin to hope again.' Poor Jerry did begin indeed to have fresh hope; and are we not told that its promises are sweeter than roses in the bud, and more flattering to expectation? 'Combine love with friendship, Ida,' he urged, softly, with the tip of his moustache almost touching her ear, 'and its tranquillity will be great and happy.' She could not, without growing interest and tenderness, see the mournful love-me look that his eyes wore; yet she said, over her bouquet of stephanotis, Beverley's favourite flower and perfume: 'Do not talk thus, I implore you, Jerry Vane.' A gesture of impatience escaped Vane, yet he said, in a voice of tenderness: 'Oh, Ida, _I do know it_--too well and bitterly; for as I loved you in the past time, so do I love you still!' 'Pardon me, Jerry; you are indeed a kind and faithful----' 'Fool!' he interrupted her, bitterly. 'That is the word, Ida.' 'Nay, nay, don't say so,' she urged, with tremulous lips and moistened eyes.