No word was said, however, and no announcement made. The evening passed off a little heavily. Rona, hitherto the life and soul of the party, was the victim of a depression she could not shake off. Rallied upon her silence, she owned to being very tired; said she thought the sun had made her head ache, and slipped away early to bed. But, when she had gained her room--the pretty, dainty nest, with its rose chintzes, and its air of subdued luxury--she did not attempt to undress nor to lie down to rest. Pushing wide the casement of her window, she sat down upon the window seat, joined her hands beneath her chin, and gazed upon the stars. The drifting by of the soft night wind, like an impatient sigh, lifted her loosened hair from her brow. The beauty of the velvet darkness, the perfume of the roses that clustered upon the wall outside her room were all unnoticed. Her life was torn with the pain of having to decide. In spite of her convent rearing, in spite of a childhood so sheltered, this young creature had come into contact with much that maidens of her age never know. Most girls begin life cradled in the soft lap of sentiment. As a rule, the sentimental and diluted version of sex feeling which they call love, comes to them first. They pass out from their world of dreams into real life, through a fairy archway built up of the pretty accessories which go to make a wedding. But Veronica had no such initiation. Hardly had the door of her convent closed upon, her than the wolves of life were upon her heels. The shock which she had received, when first a glimmering of what was meant by her uncle's arrangement with Levy dawned upon her, had as it were flung her violently away from the mood of shy and artless pleasure with which the average young girl awaits her destiny. Rona had no idea what being in love meant. Her nature was essentially an honest one. She wanted to do right. But she felt as if, in her present distress, she had no rudder. Denzil and Felix! Brothers! One had saved her life, the other had preserved it. To which did she owe her allegiance? As a matter of fact, she loved neither. But she knew she did not love Felix, and she did not know that she did not love Denzil. The elder brother was known to her, he was her daily companion, her kind friend. She was very fond of him, and this was more than she could say of any other man she had ever seen. She was not fond of Felix--she feared him. She had preserved a memory as of a great force--of something in him that might compel her to do as he wished. This she resented, and hated. All her own wishes inclined to the side of Denzil. But this very fact made her anxious that Felix should have full justice.