Alas! for masculine wisdom! The way of a serpent on a rock is not harder than that of a maid with a man. An opportunity presented itself one afternoon in which everything appeared so propitious that Jacquelin felt as though the time were made for his occasion. He and Blair had been to ride. The summer woods had been heavenly in their peacefulness and charm. Blair had insensibly fallen into a softer mood than she usually showed him, and, as they had talked of old times, she had seemed sweeter to him than ever before. He had spoken to her of Rupert, and of his anxiety about the boy; of his association with McRaffle, and of the influence McRaffle seemed to have obtained over him; and Blair had responded with a warmth which had set his heart to bounding. Mr. McRaffle was a dangerous, bad man, she declared, and she was doing all she could to counteract his evil influence over Rupert. Her sweetness to Jacquelin was such that he had hardly been able to restrain himself from opening his heart to her then and there, and asking her to let the past be bygones and accept his love. But he had waited until they should reach home, and now they were at the door. She invited him to stay to tea. Her voice thrilled him. Jacquelin suddenly began to speak to her of what was in his heart. She dropped her eyes and he was conscious that she was trembling. In his constraint he referred to the past, and faltered something about Steve having set him right. She looked up quickly. He did not heed it, but went on and said all he had so often rehearsed, with a good deal more than he had planned to say. Perhaps he gathered confidence as he went on—perhaps he showed it a little too much; for he became conscious somehow that she was not as responsive as she had been just before. When he was quite through, he waited. She also waited a moment, and then began. She did not care for him, except as a relative, and she never expected to marry at all. She was not looking at him, and was evidently speaking under strong feeling. Jacquelin’s hopes were all dashed to the ground. His throat felt parched, and when he tried to speak again his lips did not frame his words easily. “May I ask if you care for anyone else?” he demanded, in a constrained voice. “She did not know that he had any right to ask her such a question. She had already told him that she never expected to marry anyone.” She had grown more formal. Jacquelin was sure now that she cared for Middleton, and she had simply misled Steve. “What did you tell Steve?” he asked. She faced him, her figure quite straight and strong, her flashing eyes fastened searchingly on his face. “So that’s the reason you have come! Steve told you to come, and you have come to say what he told you to say. Well, go back to him and tell him I say he was mistaken.” Her lip curled as she turned on her heel. “No—no—Blair—wait one moment!” But she had walked slowly into the house, and Jacquelin saw her climb the stair.