"Yes, I was afraid you would get nothing to eat," says Monica, timidly. There is in her lovely eyes a certain wistfulness suggestive of the idea that she hopes her cake has not been made in vain. Mr. Desmond, seeing it, grasps the situation. "I _am_ hungry," he says; and I hope, and think, the gentle lie will be forgiven him. "We have had nothing in the house all day but bread, and that is not appetizing." "_There!_" says Monica, turning to Kit with sparkling eyes, "I _told_ you he wouldn't like bread." "But," goes on Desmond, with a view to making her future happier, "to-morrow all will be right again. We know of a few faithful people who will smuggle us in all we may require. So do not be unhappy about me again. Sweetheart, what a terrible weight you have been carrying!" "It _is_ a fine one, isn't it?" says Kit. "But give it to me now, Monica," taking the cake from her, "while you talk to Brian: when you are ready to come home, I can give it to him." So saying, this inestimable child withdraws herself and Monica's offering to a safe distance, and pretends for the remainder of the interview an absorbing interest in some wild flowers growing near. "I have only a moment to stay," says Monica, nervously. "I shall be missed; and now I have _seen_ you safe and unhurt," with a very sweet smile, "I shall be able to sleep. But all day long I have been haunted by timid thoughts," she sighs. "I doubt it was a sorry day for you, that first one when we met," says Desmond, remorsefully. "I have brought you only trouble. By and by you will regret you ever knew me." "Do not say that. I have no regrets,--none! Even if--if--we cannot be--" reddening vividly, "more to each other than we are now, I can still be happy in the thought that you love me and are near me, and that I can sometimes, in spite of _every one_--" with a recklessness that sits very funnily upon her--"see you." "But we shall be more to each other, Monica," says the young man, earnestly. "We shall be all in all to each other. No human being has the right to separate two hearts for the sake of a mere whim." "There are so many things. But now, indeed, I must go. Good-night." "Good-night, my own. But I shall go with you as far as the boundary fence." "No, no, indeed!" "But indeed I shall!" and of course he has his own way, and parts from her and Kit there, and answers her parting injunction "to take care of himself for _her_ sake"--this last very low--with a lingering lover's kiss, and watches the two slight figures with a beating heart, until they are out of sight. Then, picking up the cake, he goes back again to where Mr. Kelly is still awaiting him. CHAPTER XXVII. How Monica's gift receives due attention, and is thoroughly appreciated; and how a torpedo falls into a morning-room at Moyne. "Well," says Kelly, "was it Miss Beresford?" "Yes, and her sister. I saw them back to the boundary fence, but they would let me go no farther. It was rather----"