'May I tell you that I think it is I who ought to be nursing you, not you me?' Miss Bonner replied by lifting her eyes and dropping them as before, murmuring subsequently, 'Would you do so?' 'Most certainly, if you did me the honour to select me.' The fingers of the young lady commenced twisting and intertwining on her lap. Suddenly she laughed: 'It would not do at all. You won't be dismissed from your present service till you 're unfit for any other.' 'What do you mean?' said Evan, thinking more of the unmusical laugh than of the words. He received no explanation, and the irksome silence caused him to look through the window, as an escape for his mind, at least. The waters streamed on endlessly into the golden arms awaiting them. The low moon burnt through the foliage. In the distance, over a reach of the flood, one tall aspen shook against the lighted sky. 'Are you in pain?' Miss Bonner asked, and broke his reverie. 'No; I am going away, and perhaps I sigh involuntarily.' 'You like these grounds?' 'I have never been so happy in any place.' 'With those cruel young men about you?' Evan now laughed. 'We don't call young men cruel, Miss Bonner.' 'But were they not? To take advantage of what Rose told them--it was base!' She had said more than she intended, possibly, for she coloured under his inquiring look, and added: 'I wish I could say the same as you of Beckley. Do you know, I am called Rose's thorn?' 'Not by Miss Jocelyn herself, certainly!' 'How eager you are to defend her. But am I not--tell me--do I not look like a thorn in company with her?' 'There is but the difference that ill health would make.' 'Ill health? Oh, yes! And Rose is so much better born.' 'To that, I am sure, she does not give a thought.' 'Not Rose? Oh!' An exclamation, properly lengthened, convinces the feelings more satisfactorily than much logic. Though Evan claimed only the hand- kerchief he had won, his heart sank at the sound. Miss Bonner watched him, and springing forward, said sharply: 'May I tell you something?' 'You may tell me what you please.' 'Then, whether I offend you or not, you had better leave this.' 'I am going,' said Evan. 'I am only waiting to introduce your tutor to you.' She kept her eyes on him, and in her voice as well there was a depth, as she returned: 'Mr. Laxley, Mr. Forth, and Harry, are going to Lymport to-morrow.' Evan was looking at a figure, whose shadow was thrown towards the house from the margin of the stream. He stood up, and taking the hand of Miss Bonner, said: 'I thank you. I may, perhaps, start with them. At any rate, you have done me a great service, which I shall not forget.' The figure by the stream he knew to be that of Rose. He released Miss Bonner's trembling moist hand, and as he continued standing, she moved to the door, after once following the line of his eyes into the moonlight.