The young people looked up from their music; some wave of the sensation had spread to them, but seeing Colville remain seated, they went on with their playing till he rose. Then Imogene called out, "Isn't Mrs. Bowen coming back?" "I don't know; I think not," answered Colville stupidly, standing where he had risen. She hastened questioning toward him. "What is the matter? Isn't she well?" Mr. Morton's face expressed a polite share in her anxiety. "Oh yes; quite, I believe," Colville replied. "She heard Effie call, I suppose," suggested the girl. "Yes, yes; I think so; that is--yes. I must be going. Good night." He took her hand and went away, leaving the clergyman still there; but he lingered only for a report from Mrs. Bowen, which Imogene hurried to get. She sent word that she would join them presently. But Mr. Morton said that it was late already, and he would beg Miss Graham to say good-night for him. When Mrs. Bowen returned Imogene was alone. She did not seem surprised or concerned at that. "Imogene, I have been talking to Mr. Colville about you and Mr. Morton." The girl started and turned pale. "It is almost time to hear from your mother, and she may consent to your engagement. Then you must be prepared to act." "Act?" "To make it known. Matters can't go on as they have been going. I told Mr. Colville that Mr. Morton ought to know at once. Don't try to blind yourself, Imogene, to what you see as plainly as I do. He is in love with you." "Why ought he to know?" asked Imogene, doubtless with that impulse to temporise which is natural to the human soul in questions of right and interest. She sank into the chair beside which she had been standing. "If your mother consents, you will feel bound to Mr. Colville?" "Yes," said the girl. "And if she refuses?" "He has my word. I will keep my word to him," replied Imogene huskily. "Nothing shall make me break it." "Very well, then!" exclaimed Mrs. Bowen. "We need not wait for your mother's answer. Mr. Morton ought to know, and he ought to know at once. Don't try to blind yourself, Imogene, to what you see as plainly as I do. He is in love with you." "Oh," moaned the girl. "Yes; you can't deny it. And it's cruel, it's treacherous, to let him go on thinking that you are free." "I will never see him again." "Ah! that isn't enough. He has a claim to know why. I will not let him be treated so." They were both silent. Then, "What did Mr. Colville say?" asked Imogene. "He? I don't know that he said anything. He----" Mrs. Bowen stopped. Imogene rose from her chair. "I will not let him tell Mr. Morton. It would be too indelicate." "And shall you let it go on so?" "No. I will tell him myself." "How will you tell him?" "I will tell him if he speaks to me." "You will let it come to that?" "There is no other way. I shall suffer more than he." "But you will deserve to suffer, and your suffering will not help him." Imogene trembled into her chair again.