Geraldine was the first to see him; she stood upon the stairs when he came into the hall. The gas was already lighted, showing the ghastly whiteness of his face, and by that she knew that Mildred Howell _had_ kept her word. An hour later when Geraldine knocked softly at his door, and heard his reply, “Engaged,” she muttered, “Not to Mildred Howell though,” and then went to her own room, where lay sleeping the _Lilian_ for whose sake this suffering was caused. Assured by Geraldine that all would yet be well, she had dried her tears, and, as she never felt badly long upon any subject, she was to all appearances on the best of terms with Lawrence, who, grateful to her for behaving so sensibly, treated her with even more than his usual kindness. The illness of which Geraldine had written to Mildred was of course a humbug, for Lilian was not one to die of a broken heart, and she lay there sleeping sweetly now, while Geraldine paced the floor, wondering what Mildred Howell had written and what the end would be. The next morning Lawrence came down to breakfast looking so haggard and worn that his father involuntarily asked if he were sick. “No, not sick,” was Lawrence’s hurried answer, as he picked at the snowy roll and affected to sip his coffee. Mr. Thornton was in a hurry as usual, and immediately after breakfast went out, leaving Geraldine and Lawrence alone, for Lilian had not yet come down. “You have had bad news, I’m sure,” said Geraldine, throwing into her manner as much concern as possible. Lawrence made no reply, except indeed to place his feet upon the back of a chair and fold his hands together over his head. “I was a little fearful of some such _denouement_,” Geraldine continued, “for, as I hinted to you on Friday, I was almost certain she fancied young Hudson. He called here last evening,—and seemed very conscious when I casually mentioned her name. What reason does she give for refusing you?” “None whatever,” said Lawrence, shifting his position a little by upsetting the chair on which his feet were placed. “That’s strange,” returned Geraldine, intently studying the pattern of the carpet as if she would there find a cause for the strangeness. “Never mind, coz,” she added, laughingly, “don’t let one disappointment break your heart. There are plenty of girls besides Mildred Howell; so let her have young Hudson, if she prefers him.” No answer from Lawrence, who was beginning to be dreadfully jealous of young Hudson. “It may be. It may be,” he thought, “but why couldn’t she have told me so? Why leave me entirely in the dark? Does she fear the wrath of Hudson’s mother in case I should betray her?”