'And you will go away; you will leave me on my birthday without a kind word, without wishing me joy? and you never even wrote to me.' And now the tears seemed ready to come. 'This is past man's endurance,' groaned Roy. 'Polly, if you cared for me you would not torture me like this.' And he turned so deadly pale that even Mildred grew alarmed. 'I will say anything you like if you will only let me go.' 'Tell me you are glad, that you are pleased; you know what I mean,' stammered Polly. She had hung her head, and the strange paleness and excitement were lost on her, as well as the fierce light that had come in Roy's eyes. 'For shame, Polly! after all, you are just like other women--I believe you like to test your power. So I am to wish you joy of your John Heriot, eh?' 'Yes, Rex. I have so missed your congratulation.' 'Well, you shall have it now. How do people wish each other joy on these auspicious occasions? We are not sister and brother--not even cousins. I have never kissed you in my life, Polly--never once; but now I suppose I may.' He snatched her to him as he spoke with an impetuous, almost violent movement, but as he stooped his head over her he suddenly drew back. 'No, you are Heriot's now, Polly--we will shake hands.' And as she looked up at him, scared and sorely perplexed, his lips touched her bright hair, softly, reverently. 'There, he will not object to that. Bless you, Polly! Don't forget me--don't forget your old friend Roy. Now I must go, dear.' And as she still held him half unconsciously, he quickly disengaged himself and limped painfully away. Mildred watched till he had disappeared, and then she came up to the girl, who was standing looking after him with blank, wide-open eyes. 'Come, Polly, they will be waiting for us, you know.' But there was no sign of response. 'They will be seeking us everywhere,' continued Mildred. 'The sun has set, and my brother will be faint and tired with his long day. Come, Polly, rouse yourself; we shall have need of all our wits.' 'What did he mean?--I do not understand, Aunt Milly. Why was it wrong for him to kiss me?--Richard did. What made him so strange? He frightened me; he was not like Roy at all.' 'People are not like themselves when something is troubling them. I know all about Roy's difficulty; it will not always harass him. Perhaps he will write to us, and then we shall feel happier.' 'Why did he not tell me himself?' returned the girl, plaintively. 'No one has ever come between us before. Roy tells me everything; I know all his fancies, only they never come to anything. It is very hard that I am to be less to him now.' 'It is the way of the world, little one,' returned Mildred, gravely. 'Roy cannot expect to monopolise you, now that another has a claim on your time and thoughts.'