"I must do something," he said at last. "It's getting too much for me: I shall have to stop going to Brooke's house. I suppose this is what people call falling in love! Well, I can honestly say I have never done it in this fashion before! I have flirted, I have made love scores of times, but I never wanted a woman for my own as I want _her_! And I think I had better keep out of her way--for her eyes will send me mad!" So he soliloquized: so he resolved; but inclination was stronger than will or judgment. Day after day saw him at the Brookes' house; and day after day saw the shadows deepen on Ethel's face, and the fold of perplexity grow more distinct between Lesley's tender brows. Kingston had been looking ill and uneasy for some days past, and one afternoon she begged leave to go out for an hour or two to see a friend. Miss Brooke let her go, and went out to a meeting with a perfectly contented mind. Even if Oliver Trent came to the house that afternoon it would not matter: it would be only "once in a way." And Lesley secretly hoped that he would not come. But he came. A little later than usual--about four o'clock in the afternoon, when there was no light in the drawing-room but that of the ruddy blaze, and the tea-tray had not yet been brought up. When Lesley saw him she wished that she had sent down word that she was engaged, that she had a headache, or even that she was--conventionally--not at home. Anything rather than a tete-a-tete with Oliver Trent! And yet she would have been puzzled to say why. His quick eye told him almost at once that she was alone. It told him also that she was decidedly nervous and ill-at-ease. "We must have lights," she said. "Then you can see my new song. I had a fresh one this morning." "Never mind the lights: never mind your song," he said, his voice vibrating strangely. "If you are like me, you love this delightful twilight." "I don't like it," said Lesley, with decision. "I will ring for the lamps, please." She moved a step, but by a dexterous movement he interposed himself between her and the mantelpiece, beside which hung the bell-handle. "Shall I ring?" he asked, coolly. It seemed to him that he wanted to gain time. And yet--time for what? He had nothing to get by gaining time. "Yes, if you please," Lesley said. She could not get past him without seeming rude. A slight tremor shook her frame; she shrank away from him, towards the open piano and leaned against it as if for support. The flickering firelight showed her that his face was very pale, the lips were tightly closed, the brows knitted above his fiercely flaming eye. He did not look like himself. "Lesley," he said, hoarsely, and stretching forward, he put one hand upon her arm. But the touch gave the girl strength. She drew her arm away, as sharply as if a noxious animal had touched her. "Mr. Trent, you forget yourself." "Rather say that I remember myself--that I found myself when I found you! Lesley, I love you!"