What was it--_what_? Shall he ever have the courage to find out? And is this to be the end of it all? In a flash the coming of the girl is present before him, and now, here is her going. Had she--had she--what _was_ it he meant? No wonder if her girlish fancy had fixed itself on this tall, handsome, young man, with his kindly, merry ways and honest meaning. Ah! that was what she meant perhaps when last night she had told him "she would not be a worry to him _long_." Yes, she had meant that; that she was going to marry Hardinge! But to _know_ what Hardinge means! A torturing vision of a little lovely figure, gowned all in white--of a little lovely face uplifted--of another face down bent! No! a thousand times, no! Hardinge would not speak of that--it would be too sacred; and yet this awful doubt---- "Look here. I'll tell you," says Hardinge's voice at this moment. "After all, you are her guardian--her father almost--though I know you scarcely relish your position; and you ought to know about it, and perhaps you can give me your opinion, too, as to whether there was anything in it, you know. The fact is, I,"--rather shamefacedly--"asked her for a flower out of her bouquet, and she gave it. That was all, and," hurriedly, "I don't really believe she meant anything _by_ giving it, only," with a nervous laugh, "I keep hoping she _did_!" A long, long sigh comes through the professor's lips straight from his heart. Only a flower she gave him! Well---- "What do _you_ think?" asks Hardinge after a long pause. "It is a matter on which I could not think." "But there is this," says Hardinge. "You will forward my cause rather than your brother's, will you not? This is an extraordinary demand to make I know--but--I also know _you_." "I would rather see her dead than married to my brother," says the professor, slowly, distinctly. "And----?" questions Hardinge. The professor hesitates a moment, and then: "What do you want me to do?" asks he. "Do? 'Say a good word for me' to her; that is the old way of putting it, isn't it? and it expresses all I mean. She reveres you, even if----" "If what?" "She revolts from your power over her. She is high-spirited, you know," says Hardinge. "That is one of her charms, in my opinion. What I want you to do, Curzon, is to--to see her at once--not to-day, she is going to an afternoon at Lady Swanley's--but to-morrow, and to--you know,"--nervously--"to make a formal proposal to her." The professor throws back his head and laughs aloud. Such a strange laugh. "I am to propose to her--I?" says he. "For me, of course. It is very usual," says Hardinge. "And you are her guardian, you know, and----" "Why not propose to her yourself?" says the professor, turning violently upon him. "Why give me this terrible task? Are you a coward, that you shrink from learning your fate except at the hands of another--another who----"