But when they stood face to face, neither Ronald nor she could find anything to say. He gave the report of Miss Dempster that she was a little better; that was the bulletin which by tacit agreement was always given--she was a little better, but still a great invalid. When that subject was exhausted, they took refuge in Eric. When was he expected? though the consciousness in both their minds that it was for the wedding he was coming, was a sad obstacle to speech. “He is expected in three weeks. He is starting, I suppose, now,” Effie said. “Yes, he must be starting now----” And then they both paused, with the strongest realization of the scene that would ensue. Effie saw herself a bride far more clearly at that moment through the eyes, so to speak, of Ronald, than she ever had through those of the man who was to be her husband. “I think I shall go back with him when he goes,” said Ronald, “if I don’t start before.” “Are you going back?” He smiled as if it had been very ridiculous to ask him such a question. “What else,” he said--there seemed a sort of sad scorn in the inquiry--“What else is left for me to do?” Perhaps he would have liked to put it more strongly--What else have you left me to do? “I am very sorry,” said Effie, “I thought----” and then she abandoned this subject altogether. “Do you think Eric will see much change?” she said. “Eric! Oh, yes; he will see a great deal of change. The country and all look the same to be sure; it is the people who alter. He will see a great deal of change in you, Miss Ogilvie.” Effie looked up with tears starting in her eyes as if he had given her a sudden blow. “Oh, Ronald! why do you call me that--am I not Effie--always----” And there came a little sob in her throat, stopping further utterance. He looked as if he could have cried too, but smiled instead strangely, and said, “When you have--another name, how am I to call you by that? I must try and begin now.” “But I shall always be Effie, always,” she said. Ronald did not make any reply. He raised his hands in a momentary protestation, and gave her a look which said more than he had ever said in words. And then they walked on a few steps together in silence, and then stopped and shook hands silently with a mutual impulse, and said to each other “good-bye.” When Effie got near home, still full of agitation from this strange little opening and closing of she knew not what--some secret page in her own history, inscribed with a record she had known nothing of--she met her stepmother, who was returning very alert and business-like from a walk.