Carrie Denham felt her cheeks burn, for she had to make him understand, and it was harder than she had imagined. "Yes," she said simply; "on conditions. One must be honest, and I could not make a bargain with you--afterwards--you can draw back now. I think you know that I do not love you--and I have nothing to give you except my fellowship. Still, as you do not love me, you will, perhaps, be content with that." The moonlight showed that Leland started slightly, and the darker colour in his bronzed face, but he made her a little deferential gesture. Then he looked up again, straightening himself, with the glint in his eyes she had now and then seen there before. "My dear," he said, "you shall do 'most everything you like; but, when you say that I do not love you, I am not sure that you are right." "Still," said the girl sharply, "I, at least, know what I feel myself, and I have tried to tell you that you must not expect too much from me." Leland, stooping, caught her hand and held it fast. "It's a bargain," he said. "You shall be your own mistress in every way, and your wishes will be quite enough for me; but I almost think that you will love me, too, some day. I shall try to find how to make you, and I have never been quite beaten yet in anything I undertook." He saw the look of shrinking in her face, and, though he had not expected it, a little thrill of pain ran through him. Then he raised the hand he held, and, stooping, touched it with his lips before he laid it on his arm. As they went up the steps together, he looked down on her again. "In the meanwhile, I will try to do nothing that could make you sorry you married me; and you have only to tell me when anything does not please you." He left her at the entrance to the hall, while he went in search of Branscombe Denham, and, as it happened, saw very little of her during the rest of the evening. It was late that night when the girl related to Eveline Annersly a part of what had passed. The faded, merry little woman, her aunt and only confidante, smiled as she listened. "You probably know your own affairs best, but I can't help wondering if you were wise in giving that man to understand that you didn't care in the least for him," she said. "Why?" said Carrie. "Because it is just possible that you may be sorry for it by-and-bye. As it is, I don't think there is any great necessity for pitying you. If it had been Aylmer, it would have been a different matter." The girl looked at her with lifted brows. "Do you suppose I should ever care for a man like that one?"