"I don't think I care much about congratulations." "Nevertheless, you must put up with them," with a faint smile. "You must pay the penalty of being a rich woman." "Were you very much surprised?" looking him full in the face; but he did not return her glance. "I am afraid I must own to a very fair amount of astonishment; such a romantic story has never before been told in Hepshaw. It savours a little of Hans Andersen." "Ah, I know you think me silly, and all that," she replied, in a voice that was at the same time proud and pained. "I shall never be able to make any of you understand why I did it. I begin to see a grave ending to my little joke; and yet it made me so happy." "I almost wish you had told us from the beginning." "That would have spoiled everything. You and Mr. Logan would have made me resign my school at once, and my pleasant summer holiday would have been at an end. Perhaps it was cowardly; but I could not bear being rich." "That sounds strange." "Ah, but it is true," she returned earnestly. "Such a little would have contented me; five hundred a-year would have made me a happy woman; I told Mr. Logan so. We would have taken a cottage, Emmie and I, larger and prettier than the one we are in, and we should have been as happy as the day is long; but now, what am I to do with it all?" putting out her hands with a sudden gesture of repugnance and helplessness. He seemed struck with that, and hesitated for a moment before he answered her; there was a certain forlornness in her words and aspect that touched him. They had reached the end of the lane; but now he made a movement as though to retrace his steps, and she turned obediently and walked on again by his side. As she did so he stole a swift glance at her. Did she look any different in his eyes now she was an heiress? His survey took in the tall, slim figure in the simple black dress. That was the hat, surely, to which Dora had objected, and yet how well it suited her. He noted all the little details--the indescribable air of finish that had always pleased his fastidiousness, the set and poise of the pretty head, the mixture of girlish frankness and modesty that gave such a charm to her manner; and then again that inward voice made itself heard. "Oh, if she were only poor, and I dared speak to her!" and the struggle within him gave a little hardness to his voice. "I think you ought to look at it in quite another light," he began gravely. "It is a great responsibility that has come to you, a talent for which you must account. I don't think you ought to hide it under a bushel in the way you are doing." "You mean that Mr. Logan must find another mistress? Brierwood Cottage ought to have another tenant?" she returned huskily, speaking out her greatest fear.