"For another's sake," she evasively answered. "I told you some time ago Frederick St. John was in love with _her_." He knew to whom she alluded. "Do you think it _likely_ that he is, Miss Beauclerc?" "If he's not in love with herself, he is in love with her beauty," said Georgina, with a laugh. "But you know what the popular belief is--that the heir of the St. Johns, whatever he may do with his love, may only give his hand to his cousin, Lady Anne." "I hope it is so. She is the nicest girl, and he deserves a good wife. I used to sing duets with her when she was last at the Palmery." "Oh!" said Georgina, turning her pretty nose into the air, "and so you fell in love with her." "No," replied Henry; "my love was not mine to give." Another pause. Georgina snatched a second flower--a carnation this time--and began pulling it to pieces. "I suppose you heard from him this morning?" "Yes." "And where is he now?" "In Spain. But he talks of coming home." He stole a glance at her; at the loving light that shone in her bright blue eyes; at the soft glow, red as the carnation she was despoiling, on her conscious cheek. _Why_ did he not read the signs in all their full meaning? Why did hope struggle with the conviction that would have arisen in his heart? "Have you his letter?" "Yes; you can read it if you like. There are no secrets. I have told him that Miss Beauclerc was fond of looking at his letters. He is enthusiastic, as usual, on the subject of pictures." She closed her hand upon the foreign-looking letter which he took from his jacket pocket to give to her. "I will take it home with me, and return it to you to-morrow; I can't read it now. And, Harry, I am going back to my party, or perhaps they'll be setting the crier to work. Mind you don't breathe a word of that school examination: it would not do. But I tell things to you that I'd not tell to anybody else in the world." She ran away up a side path, and Henry made his way to the more frequented part of the garden. It happened that he found himself again with the bishop; and the prelate laid his hand, as before, on the shoulder of the handsome boy, and kept him at his side.