"Goodness knows," answered Frank. "Oh, yes, by-the-bye, I remember Chancellor saying they were next on the roster for foreign service. He said, a few months would see him in India, unless he sold out. I shouldn't much wonder if he did. I shouldn't much wonder if--" he hesitated. For the first time a slight misgiving seemed to come over him; he looked up in some little embarrassment. Eugenia was sitting perfectly still, looking just as usual. He felt reassured. "If what?" asked Sydney, again with the same feeling of being forced by the intensity of her sister's anxiety to continue putting these questions against her own will. "Oh, nothing," said Frank. "That is to say, it is only a fancy of mine that there may be something between Chancellor and that handsome Miss Eyrecourt. His cousin, isn't she? I never saw her, but he had rather a constrained way of alluding to her, I noticed, and he had half-a-dozen photographs of her in different attitudes and dresses." "I should think it very likely," said somebody--for the moment Sydney actually did not recognise the voice as her sister's. "I wonder if papa wants any tea, Sydney. I think I'll go and see." She rose from her seat almost as she spoke, walked quietly to the door, and left the room. Five minutes later, on some pretext, Sydney followed her--not to Mr Laurence's study, up to Eugenia's own room. It was quite dark. Sydney had to feel her way across the floor. "Eugenia," she said, softly. No one answered. She groped her way to the bed. Down at one end a figure was kneeling or crouching, she could not tell which. She felt it was her sister. Round the poor child's quivering frame stole two clinging, clasping arms; all over her eyes and cheeks and mouth fell tears and kisses. "Don't push me away, _don't_, Eugenia," entreated Sydney. There was a moment's hesitation--a struggle between pride and old habit of love and confidence for the victory. But pride had had more than its share of work lately; it gave in. "Oh, Sydney," came at last, with a convulsive grasp of her sister. "Oh, Sydney, how shall I bear it? I don't blame _him_. _He_ couldn't help it, but I do think my heart is broken." VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER NINE. AT WINSLEY. Breathe no love to me, I will give none of mine.