'It seems you were all agreed in keeping me in the dark; you had your reasons, of course, but it appears to me as though I ought to have been the first to hear of Roy's visit,' and there was a marked emphasis in his words that made Mildred still more uncomfortable. 'I do not wish to blame you; you acted for the best, of course, and I own the case a difficult one; it is only a pity that my little girl should have considered it her duty to keep anything from me.' 'I told him it was Roy's secret, not mine,' murmured Polly, and he placed his hand kindly on her head. 'I do not see how she could have acted otherwise,' returned Mildred, rather indistinctly. 'No, I am more inclined to blame her advisers than herself,' was the somewhat cool response; 'mysteries are bad things between engaged people. Polly kept a copy of her letter to show me, but she never found courage to do so until to-night, and yet she is quite aware what are Roy's feelings towards her.' Mildred's voice had a sound of dismay in it-- 'Oh, Polly! then you have deceived me too.' 'You have no reason to say so,' returned the girl, proudly, but her heart swelled over her words; 'it was that--that letter, and your silence, that told me, Aunt Milly; but I could not--it was not possible to say it either to you or to Dr. Heriot.' 'You see it was hard for her, poor child,' was his indulgent comment; 'but you might have helped her; you might have told me yourself, Miss Lambert.' But Mildred repelled the accusation firmly. 'It was no business of yours, Dr. Heriot, or Polly's either, that Roy loved her. Richard and I were right to guard it; it was his own secret, his own trouble. Polly would never have known but for her own wilfulness.' 'Yes I should, Aunt Milly; I should have found it out from his silence,' returned Polly, with downcast eyes. 'I could not forget his changed looks; they troubled me more than you know. I puzzled myself over them till I was dizzy. I felt heart-broken when I found it out, but I could not have told Heriot.' 'It would have been better for us both if you had,' he replied, calmly; but he uttered no further reproach, only there was a keen troubled look in his eyes, as he gazed at the girl's upturned face, as though he suddenly dreaded the loss of something dear to him. 'Heartsease, it would have been better for you and me.' 'Heriot, what do you mean?' she whispered, vehemently; 'surely you did not misunderstand me; you could not doubt the sincerity of my words, my love?' 'Neither the one nor the other,' was the quiet reply; 'do I not know my Polly? could I not trust that guileless integrity as I would my own? You need not fear my misunderstanding you; I know you but too well.' 'Are you sure that you do?' clinging to him more closely.