Next morning Miss Baynard and Evan breakfasted alone, Mr. Ellerslie remaining invisible. But Nell, who was becoming accustomed to her host's eccentricities, was hardly surprised at his non-appearance. Not much appetite had she this morning. Dare was coming at ten o'clock, and the thought of her forthcoming interview with him disturbed her strangely. They were about to part. When she had given expression to her gratitude, and they had taken leave of each other, and she had gone her way and he his, what chance or likelihood was there of their ever meeting again? By his own confession his business in England was now at an end; in a few days, or a few weeks at the latest, he would have left its shores, never to return; they would have passed out of each other's life, and, except for one thing, all would be as it was before they first met. Yes, save and except for one thing, but one which to Nell made all imaginable difference. Then she had held her heart fast in her own keeping, but what had become of the poor thing now? She had given it away without having been asked for it. Could anything be more shameful? It was gone from her past reclaiming; lost to her forever; and yet he into whose keeping it had been given knew nothing about it. And he never would know. He would carry it away with him, all unwitting, and to all outward seeming, life with her would go on just as before. She alone would know that she had lost something which nothing else could make up to her, that some of the magic had faded out of existence, and that the sun no longer shone quite so brightly as it had been used to do. Hardly had the clocks struck ten when there came a tap at the door, which was followed by the entrance of Geoffrey Dare. Young Evan was on the floor busied with some toys which the housekeeper had disinterred for him out of one of the garrets. The moment he saw who the newcomer was, he called out: "Uncle Geoff, come here. One of my horses has only got three legs, and I want you to make me a new one." "Presently, my dear boy, presently," he replied, as, after pausing for a moment at the door, he went slowly forward, his eyes fixed full on Miss Baynard. She was standing, supporting herself with one hand on the table and with the other pressed to her side. For a little space her gaze met his without the flicker of an eyelash and then dropped before the ardor of his regard. Her heart was beating tumultuously, while the quick rise and fall of her bosom told of the emotions at work beneath. A lovely flush suffused both face and throat; but Dare was paler than ordinary, and haggard and weary-looking, and might have just risen from a sick bed. Both were putting a strong restraint on themselves, but each showed it in a different way.