“Miss Lane,” he repeated, “I would give my right hand to undo my impertinence or to make you forget it! Upon my soul, you cannot hate me for it as much as I hate myself! Won’t you--won’t you just look at me? Only just let me see you look again as you looked before--even if you don’t speak. Good heavens, you look like stone!” But she shook her head without looking up. “Go away, please,” was all she said, in a voice from which the bright ring had gone. Harry was sobbing himself. “You--you are more cruel than I,” said he, unsteadily. But he dared not stay. Those few words of dismissal were too cutting for him to try any more entreaties. He scrambled through the hedge, rather anxious that she should see he was hurting himself in his eagerness to obey her. But she never looked round. She made her way back to her cottage more quietly, without even shedding any more tears. She was too much excited for that. But, when she was once more in her little sitting-room, she gave way, threw herself on the floor by the sofa, and cried until she could scarcely see. She was so proud, so haughtily reserved to men, that this outrage to her dignity and self-respect wounded her far more deeply than it would have done an ordinary girl. “He would not have dared if I hadn’t been ‘only a governess,’” she thought bitterly. In the meantime Harry had slunk home to the Grange, where the first person he met was George. “By Jove, Harry, I didn’t think you had it in you!” was his greeting. “What the deuce do you mean?” “Nothing but what is complimentary on this occasion. Here are your five pounds, fairly won.” He took out his pocket-book, and handed a note leisurely to his brother, who crumpled it in his hand and tossed it into a flower-bed. “What! Have you suddenly grown above filthy lucre? Very well, I’ll take it back again;” and George was stooping over a geranium to pick it up when his brother brought his hand roughly down upon his shoulder. “What do you mean by this tomfoolery?” “Well, to be frank, I watched your interview, quite by accident, and saw you win your bet.” “I didn’t win it,” said the other, surlily. “Not win it? Why, I saw you!” “I--tell--you--I--didn’t--win--it,” said Harry, savagely. “I kissed her--like a beastly cad--and she looked as if I had killed her.” He turned round quickly and made for the house. His brother followed. “Here, but I say, Harry----” The other paid no attention, but disappeared into the house. But the consequences of the act were not over. When tea-time came, and, having bathed her red and swollen eyes, Miss Lane appeared in the family circle, a deadlier chill than usual was evidently upon them. Joan looked like an ugly statue of disgust or some kindred emotion; Betty’s cheeks were flushed, and her pretty vacant eyes bright with anger; Mrs. Mainwaring was cold and nervous; the Rev. Mr. Mainwaring, above all human passions, was quietly attentive to his tea and toast, as usual. The governess’ heart sunk.