“But why should you give me presents?” “Why--but--you’re to be married!” She shook her head, smiling across at him with a new light in her eyes. “Not I, alas!” He stared back in bewilderment. “But I saw! I looked in the window last night!” “And you thought I was the bride?” She laughed deliciously. “Didn’t you know that it was bad luck for a bride to take part in a rehearsal? I was only a substitute, you see.” [Illustration] “Kitty!” He had seized her hand and was gazing rapturously into her eyes. “Kitty!” The lids fluttered down over the brown depths. The hand trembled. “You--you’re crushing my rose,” she whispered. “Kitty!” he cried again, releasing her hand as though it were life itself, “tell me again that it’s true!” “True that I was only a substitute bride?” she asked tremulously, with hidden eyes. “Yes, it’s quite true, sadly true.” She looked up with an attempt at exaggerated woe, but when she saw his face she averted her own again and gave all her attention to the crushed rose in her hand. “I--I must be going now,” she said. “Going? No, you mustn’t go!” he cried. “I must,” she murmured from the safe distance of a yard away. “Good-by.” “Good-by?” “You are going North, are you not?” she asked innocently. “North? I? Never!” “Oh!” said Kitty. “North!” he repeated witheringly. “I’m not such an idiot! I lost you twice, Kitty, and now--now I’m not going to let you out of my sight!” [Illustration] “I fear you’ll have to,” she laughed, with a shake of her head, “at least as far as the house.” [Illustration] “I shall follow!” “You mustn’t.” “But you said your uncle----” “He won’t be at home until dinner-time.” Burton groaned. “But you’re coming back into the garden, aren’t you, after awhile?” She shook her head again. “No, you forget the wedding,” she answered. “Hang the wedding, Kitty!” “I--I don’t think you ought to call me Kitty so--so much,” she protested. “Don’t you?” he scoffed. “Kitty--Kitty--Kitty! But--but there’s another name I know, and if you like I’ll call you that--Kitty; shall I? May I tell you what it is--Kitty?” “No, I--I don’t think so,” she answered in sudden alarm. She moved away as though meditating flight. “Good-by,” she said again. “But it’s not good-by,” he pleaded. “I may come this evening, mayn’t I?” “If you are not afraid of the Ogre,” she laughed. She moved farther. “Kitty,” he called softly. “Yes?” “It begins with an S!” “It?--Oh!” She fled to the house. [Illustration] [Illustration] XI A cool breeze, moist and fresh from the river, was blowing across the garden, stirring the leaves to sleepy rustlings and wafting the fragrance of thousands of roses into the evening air. There was no light save the soft radiance of the stars; no sound save their voices as they strolled slowly back and forth between the hedges and swaying blossoms. “A confession?” he was saying. “Yes,” she answered. “I wonder if you will absolve me?” “Kitty----”