"Ah, Hubert, I am so glad that you say that!" she cried. Hubert looked worried, tormented, anything but glad; but she went on: "I always trusted you--always believed in you--and I was right. You would never be untrue--you would never----" "For Heaven's sake, Enid, stop!" said Hubert faintly. "I can't--I can't bear this sort of thing!" And indeed he looked so ghastly that she had to find smelling-salts and bring him some cold water to drink before she could go on. "I am very sorry," she said penitently, "and I will say what I have to say very quickly, if you will let me. You will not acknowledge the truth, I see, though it would be wiser if you would. You love Cynthia West, and Cynthia loves you; and, though you are willing to keep your word to me, you care for me only as a cousin and a friend. Is not that really the truth?" "My dear Enid, you are developing a wonderful amount of imagination and, I may say, of courage!" "I don't know about imagination," she said, smiling again; "but I think that I have gained a great deal of courage since I saw you last. As you will not set me free for your own sake, I must ask you to set me free for mine. I cannot marry you, Hubert. Will you forgive me for breaking my word?" Her eyes shone so brightly, her smile was so sweet, that Hubert looked at her in amazement. He had never seen her half so beautiful. She was transfigured; for love and happiness had done their work, and made her lovelier than she had ever been in all her life before. "I am in earnest," she went on. "I have been false to you, Hubert dear--and yet I never liked you so well as I like you now. I have given my word to some one else--to some one that I love better--and I want to know if you will forgive me and set me free." "Enid I cannot understand! Do you think that I am not ready--anxious--to marry you? My dear, if you will only trust me and honor me so far----" Enid laughed in his face. "Why won't you believe that I am in earnest?" she said. "Indeed I am speaking seriously. I love Maurice Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield, better than I love you, uncivil though it may sound." He caught her by the hands. "Really--truly--Enid? You love him?" "Far better than I ever loved you, dear Hubert! You are my cousin, whom I love sincerely in a cousinly way; but I love Maurice with all my heart and soul!"--and a deep blush overspread her countenance, while her happy smile and lowered eyes attested the truth of her statement. "And are you happy?" "Very happy! And, Hubert, I should like to see you happy too. Now acknowledge the truth, please. You love Cynthia--is not that true?" "Enid, you are a witch!" "And she loves you?" He did not answer for a minute or two. Then with unaccustomed gravity of tone, he said-- "I fear so, Enid." "You fear so? Why do you say that?" she asked. "Because I am afraid that, even if we love each other, we ought not to marry." Enid's face grew thoughtful, like his own.