Veronica turned towards him. It was growing dusk, and in the half-light her face was very pale. "If it should be true!" she murmured, with a catch of the breath; and then the notion of how ridiculous it all was, came over her. She collected herself, and laughed lightly. "You do not know Mr. Vanston," she said, with an air of gentle reproof. "I do. He could never feel any deep admiration for a young lady of this type. He is--he is--well, he is himself, and I cannot explain what I mean--only I know that what you think cannot be true." She thought a moment as to how she could best convince him. "Our ways in England are so different," she kindly told him. "Our intercourse is so much more free. Mr. Vanston is accustomed to be as natural in his manner to ladies as he is to his own sex. That is what makes you think----" she broke off. Felix was approaching the window across the lawns. He was walking rapidly, and his face, visible in the fading light, which was stronger out of doors, showed signs of great agitation. Veronica, urged by some nameless impulse, went to the window. Vronsky was in the shadow, and Felix either did not see him or forgot his existence. He entered precipitately:-- "Rona! Rona! We are free!" he cried, in a transported voice. "What do you say?" she faltered, suddenly dizzy, and putting both hands upon his arm to steady herself. "Denzil has played you false," he broke out, as if the news could not be withheld. "I found him and her in the garden. He held her in his arms--he was kissing her! After that--after that--whose is your allegiance, my beloved?" He caught her two hands, and drew them up to encircle his own neck, folding her in his arms. "Felix!" she uttered; and, after a moment's whirling pause, during which she looked into his kindled eyes, she pleaded, "Let me sit down. I am faint!" He supported her with his arms to a chair, in which he placed her; and was about to kneel upon the floor at her side, when she faintly said, "Felix! You forget Mr. Vronsky." "By Jove!" said Felix, wheeling round. "But it doesn't matter. Come here, old man," he went on, "and hear the good news. Denzil has cut the knot for us. He has found a way out." Vronsky, bewildered, said something very volubly in Russian. "Yes, yes, I know all that," replied Felix, "but we found out the truth in our five-hundred-mile drive. I was right from the first. I always knew I was right. But it was natural that Rona should be bewildered. My brother had been conspicuously good to her, and it is not uncommon for a very young girl to mistake gratitude for love. But this is not gratitude--is it, Rona?" On the last words his voice dropped to a lower key and shook with intensity. Rona let him take her hand, and with devotion he raised it to his lips. "Felix," she urged, almost in a whisper, for she was profoundly shaken, "we did keep faith, did we not?" "Thanks to you, not to me, we did," he replied thankfully.