After the meal was over Clara proposed to take Beatrice for a walk in the gay town as Margaret was going to trim a hat for Mrs. Middle's garden party, and Honoria always did the housekeeping. Beatrice was delighted at the offer and soon joined Clara in the spacious hall. "We must go this way" said Clara "as I have to go the Bank for Mother." "Oh alright" said Beatrice taking Clara's arm. Then followed a little conversation about nothing in particular, and by the time they reached the Bank Beatrice had quite decided that though Clara was very pleasant and cheery she was not as nice as Margaret who was kindness itself to the strange English girl. "Would you like to walk up and down while I go into the Bank?" asked Clara. "Yes please," said Beatrice who by no means appreciated Banks, and so saying she left Clara in the office and walked along the gay street. She seemed very strange as she walked through the strange streets and was so taken with the fancy shops that she forgot all about Clara in the bank. "Dear me! what lovely gloves" she said as she stopped outside a large drapers shop "we dont have such things in England!" Just then somebody passed behind her and in so doing brushed against her dress. Beatrice at once looked round and there walking quietly in front as though nothing had happened was a man! Beatrice looked in amazement at the gentleman calmly receding up the road, and as she looked the form seemed to grow familiar in front of her eyes. Surely she had seen that navy blue suit before, that brown hat and those boots! Yes! the very walk was familiar to her. She knew that black curly hair and that well formed back again!--it was Lawrence Cathcart! Beatrice gave a low cry and covered her face with her hands. The man looked round and his eyes fell upon the figure of the unhappy Beatrice. He evidently recognized her for with a little hesitation he advanced towards her and taking her arm said not unkindly--"Come with me." "I can't" groaned Beatrice. "You must," said Lawrence. Beatrice could do no more but slowly and sadly she followed her enemy. Many thoughts flashed through her mind during that walk, thoughts that Beatrice will never forget. At last Lawrence stopped at an Inn door and he mounted the steps and walked in. Beatrice followed in silence. Presently Lawrence opened a door and the two went into a small but pretty bedroom. "Now," said Lawrence, turning the key in the door and looking kindly at Beatrice, "have you changed your mind since we last met?" The tears welled into Beatrice's blue eyes and rolled down her now death-like cheeks. "Lawrence," she sobbed at length, "I wish I could say I had, I almost love you Lawrence but I cannot marry you."