This, thought May, was indeed a smoothing of her difficulties. She glanced at the speaker with gratitude. "You will really do that? How generous of you, Lord Dymchurch!" "Allow me to leave you now, Miss Tomalin. I must prepare for my journey." May offered her hand. Dymchurch just perceptibly pressed it, saluted with the gravest politeness, and walked away. On the terrace before the house, he encountered Lashmar, who came up to him with a glowing countenance. "I hoped I should find you here. Nothing could be better. Just a moment's talk." Dyce had thrust out a hand, but as the other appeared not to see it, he drew it hack again as naturally as he could. Dymchurch stood waiting in an attitude of cold civility. "It's rather a delicate matter. Accident has obliged me to speak; otherwise, I shouldn't, of course, have troubled you with my private affairs. I wish to tell you that the engagement which once existed between Miss Bride and myself is at an end." "I presumed so," was the reply, spoken with unmoved features. "Also, that Miss Tomalin has for some days been aware of this state of things." "I took it for granted." "So that," Dyce continued, in a stumbling way, "you won't retain any disagreeable impression from this morning's incident? I am very glad indeed to have been able to see you at once. It puts an end to a natural uneasiness on both sides." "I am obliged to you," said Dymchurch. With a bow and a look past his interlocutor, he turned to enter the house. As soon as he had disappeared, Lashmar followed, and rang the door bell. Of the servant who came, he asked whether Miss Bride was down yet. The domestic went to inquire. Waiting in the hall, Dyce heard a footstep behind him; he turned and saw May, who, with features discomposed, just met his eyes and hurried away up the staircase. When the servant returned, it was with a request that Mr. Lashmar would step into the library. There, in a few minutes, Constance joined him. "You are early!" she exclaimed. "No bad news, I hope?" "No. But I want a little quiet talk with you. Of course it's absurd to come at this hour. You know I lunch here to-day, and I couldn't have gone through with it without seeing you in private. I'm in a queer state of mind; very much upset; in fact, I never felt such need of a true friend to consult." Constance kept her eyes fixed upon him. She had been up for a couple of hours, reading in the French book which had reached her yesterday. The same volume had occupied her till long after midnight. Her face showed the effects of over-study. "Tell me all about it," she said, with voice subdued to the note of intimacy, and look in which there shone an indulgent kindliness. "You have often said that you wished me well, that you desired to help me in my career." "Have I not done more than say it?" returned the other, softly.