“You think better of me than I deserve,” said Marion, in all sincerity, though the phrase she had used is seldom so uttered. “I fear if you knew all about me you would greatly change your thoughts of me. I fear you would,” she repeated, half questioningly, and as she spoke she laid her hand on his arm, and looked up in his face with a sort of wistful appeal. She did it in all simplicity, poor child. Somehow her secret weighed heavily on her that evening; and oh! how she wished she could tell him the whole! Ralph did not speak for a moment. Then, as if in spite of himself, he said, hoarsely almost, “Child, do not try me too far.” But before another word could be said by either, Cissy’s voice was heard behind them. “Marion, how ever have you and Sir Ralph managed to hide, yourselves? I have had such a hunt for you. There’s poor Captain Berwick in such a state at having lost one of his dances. You know you promised him the first two when he came, and he couldn’t get here sooner. Do come. Sir Ralph, pray bring her hack to the dancing room. Thank you, Mr. Chepstow” (who was her cavalier), “my shawl’s always tumbling off.” Ralph escorted Marion back to the dancers; at the entrance to the room to be relieved of his charge by Frank Berwick, radiant with eagerness and murmuring gentle reproaches to the truant partner as he led her away to redeem her promise. It seemed to Ralph that they danced together all the rest of the evening, for he hardly let them out of his sight, though he spoke to neither again till the very close. Then, as Frank, with a face that to so acute an observer as Ralph Severn, would, had he been less preoccupied, have told its own tale, was leading Marion to the cloak-room, she heard herself addressed. There were several people crowding round where they stood, but Ralph made his way near enough for her to hear him, though he spoke low. “Miss Freer,” he said, “I am going to leave Altes to-morrow for some weeks, months perhaps. Will you say good-bye to me?” “Going to leave Altes to-morrow,” repeated Marion, with a quiver in her voice, which he did not hear, or if he did, set it down to a different cause, “going away, to-morrow! Good-bye, Sir Ralph. Good-bye. And—thank you for being so kind to me.” “The last words were very low. If only he had looked at her, had seen the tears welling up and all but running over! But no, he looked resolutely aside. Only wrung the soft little hand and repeated again, “Good-bye.” It was all Marion could do to keep from crying right out in the dark carriage on the way home. She had had enough to excite and distress her that evening, and might well have been excused had her self-control failed her at last. Only the knowledge that Cissy would discover her tears as soon as she reached home, enabled her to keep them back till alone in her little room. CHAPTER X. A SUDDEN RECALL.