“I am ready to take you with open eyes, Gwen; you are very honest, dear; you will lose some of that when you have suffered a little,” he added, with a ring of sadness in his voice, as he looked tenderly down on her. She raised her head quickly. “Suffer! Why should I suffer?” He watched her for a minute with sombre eyes. “I don’t know,” he said half-absently, “but you will. Then this is our betrothal, is it, dear?” She bowed her head. “Oh, my darling!” he said suddenly. “Will he often say it?” she thought curiously, “can I stand this?” “My darling, you have no idea how I shall enjoy giving you lessons in love.” “Will you?” she said grimly, “I doubt it, I tell you I have no taste for the cult. Well, it is at least fortunate that one can be honest and that it isn’t necessary for me to befool you for the sake of your income. This marriage is the very perfection of an alliance from all such points of view, and yet—do you know, Sir Humphrey, I wish quite intensely, we were both of us in another position, in quite a low, unknown one, then we need not marry. Engagements are nothing; I know as much of you now as any engagement can teach me. We might then try a preliminary experiment as to how life together goes; if it did not do, we might each go our own way and bury the past. I never wished for such a thing before, it follows, I suppose,” she added with a mirthless little laugh, “that I care this much for you or for my experiment. Have you grasped the whole situation?” she demanded, turning her troubled eyes full on him. “My child, you have been very explicit, I think I have quite grasped it. When will you marry me?” She gave a little start. “I was wondering,” she said at last, “if this was final?” “It is final,” he said, “you know it is.” “Yes, I know; it was rather paltry to pretend I didn’t—oh!—” She looked up at him with her face held in both her hands. “Final? yes, so it is. I am one section of a puzzle moved by fate, you’re another. It is humiliating when one comes to think of it.” “Well?” “I will marry you when you like.” “The end of next month?” “Won’t it interfere with the shooting?” “I had forgotten that—I don’t think I shall mind—the end of July, then.” He took her hands and kissed them, and he thought as he got out into the street that he had felt them tremble. It was a pleasant surprise, on which he felt inclined to congratulate himself. The knowledge had a quite other effect on his betrothed. She smote her clenched fists angrily together and scorned herself for the feebleness of her extremities. “Mean deceitful wretch,” she cried, “to mislead that man, when I am only tired and wanting my tea!” CHAPTER XXI. There were some slight eruptions in the domestic circle at Waring Park before it was decided what form the wedding was to take. As might be expected, Mr. and Mrs. Waring in no way interfered, but kept themselves carefully aloof from the whole concern. But not so Dacre.