'"No," said I, curtly, as I tossed it into the arbour, with the fear, the crushing conviction, that some fellow _had_ been there after all How he had effected his exit from the arbour unseen by me was a mystery; but how I enjoyed our croquet that afternoon you may imagine. 'In the course of our game I casually discovered that the lost glove belonged to Sir John Oriel, but you know that his personal appearance scarcely answers to that of the man I have described to you. 'I am loath to admit myself to be jealous; but there is a mystery in all this I cannot fathom. My visit here terminates at the end of a week, when I shall return to town more miserable in mind than I ever did before. I am to be at Carnaby Court for the Christmas festivities, but have a vague fear of what may happen in the meantime. _This fellow_----' (Jerry had drawn his pen through words, evidently as if checking some ebullition, and then continued). 'It was, perhaps, with the naturally kind and womanly desire to soothe the sorrow she had caused, and the wound she had inflicted, that when next day we met by chance in the same arbour--in fact, I followed her to it--she was more than usually affable and sweet with me, and I ventured in the plainest terms to speak of the subject that was nearest my heart. '"Confident in my own unchanging love for you, Ida," said I, "honour for your feelings, tenderness and kindness have made me silent for long; but I think the better time has come when I might openly speak to you of love again, dear Ida." '"Do not urge that subject on me now," she replied, with undisguised agitation. "You are a dear good and kind fellow--dear and good as--as--as when I first knew you; but I--I----" She paused and trembled. '"What?" I whispered. '"My heart is in the grave!" '"This is absurd; it is morbid--it is irreligious!" I exclaimed. '"Do not say so, Jerry Vane." 'I thought to myself, bitterly (excuse me, Chute), could not this confounded fellow Beverley die without bothering her with all his gloomy messages and mementoes? '"If you do not marry me, I shall die an old bachelor. Let not the one love of my life be utterly hopeless--you, my first and last!" '"Poor Jerry, what _can_ I say?" she exclaimed, interlacing her white, slender fingers. '"That you will love me." '"In time, perhaps--I will try--but cease to urge me now." '"Bless you for those words, Ida." '"I am glad to make you happy, Jerry," said she, with a bright smile in her beautiful eyes. '"You do indeed cause my heart to swell with happiness--but--but why do you _shudder_?" I exclaimed. '"Did I shudder?" she asked, growing very pale, and withdrawing her hand from mine. "Oh, let us cease this subject, Jerry, and--and excuse me leaving you."