Vera’s lips moved, but no sound came from them. She glanced at the secretary; he lifted his head and cleared his throat in a sudden spasm. His face was as pale as the young lady’s; his eyes, seen through his glasses, expressed even a magnified perturbation. “I--I was on the point of going, sir,” he said. “You--you imply--you anticipate, at least.” “I hope not; I am sure not,” answered Gilead gravely. “You must balance the significance of your words, Nestle. You should know me sufficiently by this time to trust in the fullness of my sympathy. There is no reason in the world why this should longer be kept a secret; and if you ever had any doubts as to my personal approval, so far as it is in question, rest convinced that I could imagine no union more ideally conceived. You will not consider yourselves,” he said, his voice quivering a little, “when wedded and because wedded, the less wedded to our joint interests, I am certain.” With tears springing to her eyes, the young lady took an impulsive step forward. “Mr Balm,” she began--“this mistake--” He interrupted her, gently but peremptorily:-- “Was diffidence ever so perverse! It is no mistake; it must be none. I have not failed to observe, I say; nor must Herbert fail to understand the dishonour his shyness does you by implication. Well, if it is a fact that he was on the point of going--” “Absolutely, sir,” said the secretary. “Then,” said Gilead, with a smile, “I will beg you, Nestle, to entrust this rare possession to me for a few minutes. I had come, in fact, in an emergency, to consult Miss Halifax; and hence my intrusion--I will not call it mistimed.” There was no gainsaying his ruling. He himself saw the secretary to the door, and parted with him with a squeeze of the hand. “For her sake, Nestle,” he said, “your engagement must not go longer unacknowledged.” Returning to the room, he found the girl toying with some music at the piano, her back turned to him. He stood silent a moment; and then he exclaimed, with a scarce perceptible sigh:-- “I can say no more in honour now than God bless you both. Miss Halifax--” A little to his surprise she faced round on him on the instant, her cheeks like sunset roses. Her eyes were sparkling; a psychologist might have read in their expression an impatience of his intolerable stupidity--or chivalry. But in the very act a consciousness of something unusual in his look startled and checked her; and the shadow, as it were, of a desperate word on her lips faded and passed. “Mr Balm,” she said--her breath came quick--“what is it? What is the matter?” He looked straight into her eyes. “I have seen a ghost,” he said. She was the last from being feminine in the foolish sense. She searched his face a moment; then, her own very white, seated herself on the music-stool, and looked up at him steadily. “Whose?” she said. “Ah!” he answered--“I thought perhaps you could tell me.” “_I!_” she exclaimed.