“Of course, you think I am speaking from a selfish motive. But I am not. I gave up all hopes of you as soon as I knew that Rees was coming back.” “And devoted your attentions to the second Miss Brownlow?” asked Deborah, rather archly. “No, that was all nonsense. I never spoke to the girl in my life, except to offer her a cup of tea,” said Godwin, despondently. “Didn’t you?” asked Deborah slowly. “No. Unlucky beggar that I am, I never can look at any other woman but you, except to find fault with her. I suppose it will be different when you are married. I hope so.” “And I hope not,” said Deborah, laughing gaily. Godwin looked at her with a rather puzzled expression. “Don’t you remember telling me,” said she, saucily, “that a woman was always sorry to lose an admirer? How much more must this be the case, then, when that admirer is her own husband!” Godwin stared at her in bewilderment. Deborah looked across at the castle. “What on earth _do_ you mean?” asked he, at last, slowly. “Find out,” she answered, making the words come in to a tune she was humming. “Aren’t you going to marry Rees?” asked he, in a loud and stolid tone. “Not if he were an emperor or an angel,” answered she, simply. Godwin looked at her for a few moments as if he scarcely dared to take in the meaning of the situation. “Then you’ll have to marry me,” said he decidedly. “‘Yes, if you please, kind sir, she said,’” answered Deborah, with a smile and a deep curtsey. “But you don’t love me,” whispered Godwin, whose voice had suddenly broken and grown husky. “Not more than I have done for the last six months. But then that’s a good deal,” added Deborah below her breath. Rees Pennant displayed the rage of a spoilt child thwarted when, on the return of Godwin and Deborah together, the former announced their engagement. He stormed all that evening at the fickleness and insincerity of women, to a sympathetic accompaniment from his mother, who never quite forgave Deborah for what she called “jilting poor Rees.” Still in a tumult of angry pique, Rees straightway proposed next day to Lady Marion Cenarth, who accepted him with rapture. He duly married her before many weeks were over, in spite of the opposition of her relations. It was a fate much too good for him, but his punishment lay in the fact that he never understood this, but really believed that the abject sort of happiness Lady Marion found in ministering to his lightest caprice was a more than ample recompense for any woman’s devotion. Godwin, whose services by this time had proved valuable, was, within a few months of his marriage to Deborah, removed to Carstow, to take charge of the large estates in that neighborhood, where they both continued to lead the quiet life they liked best. And so a second romance, of a brighter cast than the first, was ended in the shadow of the old grey castle walls. THE END. TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES Florence Warden was the pseudonym of Florence Alice (Price) James.