“I should be sorry to think you would have no brightness beyond that,” she answered coldly. “But I am sure Mrs. O’Hara will take good care of you in every way.” “Has it not occurred to you that Mrs. O’Hara and myself may never meet again after to-day?” “Of course it has not,” she said. “There is nothing to prevent your spending the rest of your lives together.” “Pardon me, there is one insurmountable impediment.” She turned and looked at him with a sort of suppressed eagerness in her eyes; but she was too proud to question him outright. However, he saw that she wished him to tell her, and went on: “The thing that stands in the way of such a consummation, and makes it impossible, is the disinclination on each side. Norah O’Hara, as I told you once before, could never be anything to me but my friend’s widow, and I could never be anything to her but her husband’s friend. I would go a long way to serve her, for the sake of old times; but as to marrying her----However, I ought not to speak in this way,” he added quickly. “Assuredly Mrs. O’Hara would not marry me if I wished it ever so much.” “How do you know that?” In spite of the confidence with which he had spoken this question staggered him. It had never occurred to him as possible that Mrs. O’Hara could care for him otherwise than he had said, and yet the suggestion made him uneasy. No man was ever less of a coxcomb, but he was not a fool, either, and this hint had opened his eyes. He began to recall things Mrs. O’Hara had said and done, her evident animus against Lady Gwendolyn, and a sudden, painful instinct of the truth began to dawn upon him. A scarlet flush mounted to his brows, and he lowered his head under Lady Gwendolyn’s searching glance. He was so chivalrous naturally that it pained him to think Mrs. O’Hara had betrayed her secret, since this must needs be such a deep humiliation to a proud spirit like hers. Finding he did not answer, Lady Gwendolyn repeated: “How do you know that?” as if she were determined to have an answer. “One can’t always give a reason for the faith that is in one,” he returned evasively. “Anyhow, supposing what you say were true, I could not help Mrs. O’Hara’s feelings.” “Unless you had encouraged them.” “I have never considered it possible for any encouragement of this sort to come from a man. It is your privilege solely, and it would be horribly conceited of us to usurp it.” “I do not see why a man should not be allowed to show that he appreciates the favor shown him if he really does so.” “That is a different thing to giving encouragement, as you call it. I like Mrs. O’Hara for old association’s sake; we have always been upon very cordial terms since her marriage to my friend; but as to anything else, I declare on my honor it has never so much as entered my head.”