“Only last night, and when she refused me, and said she did not love me, I accused you of being my rival, and in my mad jealousy said things of you which only a coward could have said of his friend. I sneered at your idle, aimless life, and said that women generally preferred a Sardanapalus to energetic, strong men, or something like that.” “_You_ said this of _me_ to Reinette, and I thought you my friend! I would never have served you so,” Phil said, and in his eyes there was an expression which hurt Mr. Beresford cruelly, and made him think of the wounded Cæsar when he cried out, “_Et tu, Brute!_” “Yes, I said it, Phil, but I took it all back, and made what amends I could. Queenie will tell you so if you ask her. She flew in my face like a yellow-jacket, and defended you bravely. Forgive me, Phil; I am greatly ashamed of myself.” He offered his hand to the young man, in whose eyes tears were shining, but who did not refuse to take it, though he was still smarting under this new pain. “I can forgive you,” he said, with a faint smile, “because Queenie defended me, but it is very hard to bear. You say she refused _you_ and gave you no hope?” Mr. Beresford thought of the year’s probation he had insisted upon, and spoke of it to Phil, but added: “She told me, however, that it was useless, for at the end of the time her answer would be the same, so you see there is no hope for me either;” and this he said because he saw how utterly crushed and heart-broken Phil was, and he would not add to his pain by confessing that away down in his heart there _was_ a shadowy hope that Queenie might change her mind, especially with Phil away, for he was going. He had made up his mind to that, and before returning home he wrote himself to the firm in New York, accepting the situation, and saying he would be in the city the next evening, as he wished for a few days before sailing in which to post himself with reference to the business. “But why go to-morrow? There is no such haste necessary,” Mr. Beresford said, when he heard the contents of the letter, and Phil replied: “I must go before I see her again; the sight of her might unman me and make me give it up.” So the letter was sent, and when Phil went home to dinner at night he startled his family by telling them that he was going to India for a year, and possibly longer. “To India!” both mother and sisters exclaimed, and then Phil explained it to them.