"But, Phyllis, all this time you are keeping me in suspense," says Mr. Carrington, presently, in an anxious tone: "and I will not leave you again without a decided answer. The uncertainty kills me. Darling, I feel glad and thankful when I remember how happy I can make your life, if you will only let me. You shall never have a wish ungratified that is in my power to grant. Strangemore shall be yours, and you shall make what alterations there you choose. You shall have your own rooms, and furnish them as your own taste directs. You shall reign there as the very sweetest queen that ever came within its walls." He has passed his arm lightly round my waist, and is keenly noting the effect of his words. "I remember the other day you told me how you longed to visit foreign lands. I will take you abroad, and you shall stay there as long as you wish--until you have seen everything your fancy has pictured to you. You will like all this, Phyllis; it pleases you." There is no use in denying it. All this _does_ please me. Nay, more; it intoxicates me. I am heart-whole, and can therefore freely yield myself up to the enjoyment of the visions he has conjured up before me. I feel I am giving in swiftly and surely. My refusing to marry him will not make him a whit more anxious to marry Dora; and instinct tells me now she is utterly unsuited to him. Still I am reluctant. "Would you let me have Billy and mamma and Dora with me very often?" I ask faintly. His arm round me tightens suddenly. "As often as ever you wish," he says, with strange calmness. "I tell you you shall be my queen at Strangemore, and your wishes shall be law." "And"--here I blush crimson, and my voice sinks to a whisper--"there is something else I want very, very much. Will you do it for me?" "I will. Tell me what it is." His tone is so quiet, so kind, I am encouraged; yet I know by the trembling of the hand that holds mine that the quiet is enforced. "Will you send Billy to Eton for me?" I say, my voice shaking terribly. "I know it is a very great thing to ask, but he so _longs_ to go." "I will do better than that," he answers softly, drawing me closer to him as he sees how soon I shall be his by my own consent. "I will settle on you any money you wish, and _you_ shall send Billy to Eton, and afterwards to Oxford or Cambridge." This assurance, given at any other time, would have driven me half mad with delight. Now, though my heart feels a strong throb of pleasure, it is largely mingled with what I know is pain. Am I selling myself? Some finer instinct within me whispers to me to pause before giving myself irrevocably to a man whom I certainly do not love as a woman should love the one with whom she elects to buffet all the storms and trials of life. A horrible thought comes to me and grows on my lips. I feel I _must_ give it utterance. "Suppose," I say, suddenly, "suppose--afterwards--when I have married you, I see some one to love with all my heart and mind: what then?"