Hilary had read the words until long ago he had known them by heart. He had even, sorely against his will, written down to Northborough Castle to congratulate his friend in as few words as possible on his marriage, and to inform him that he purposed starting for Canada at least two months earlier than he had originally intended. In this letter he had mentioned the name of the hotel at which he was staying. Until now he had been anxious to keep his address a secret from his friend, from a feeling that he had not acted fairly by Lord Carthew in the matter of Stella Cranstoun; but now, since she had elected to marry her wealthy and titled suitor, Hilary’s conscience was clear. There was no longer any need for mystery, and he therefore told Lord Carthew, in his extremely brief congratulatory letter, that he was staying in this place for a few days, settling his affairs, before going north to take leave of his parents, on setting out for his new home across the sea. He was conscious of a feeling of disloyalty in that he could not banish from his mind those two short love-scenes which had passed between himself and Stella. He told himself again and again that she was now his friend’s wife, and that she was most certainly a coquette, who had been amusing herself at his expense. “She would presently, if I were still in England, ask her husband to invite me to stay at one of their country seats,” he told himself, bitterly. “That’s how flirts always behave toward their old sweethearts when they’ve married another fellow. Ask them to stay, that he may see and envy the other fellow’s happiness. See them make love to their husbands _at_ him, and call him by his Christian name when they are alone. ‘_Dear_ Jack,’ or ‘_dear_ Hilary, it wasn’t _my_ fault I didn’t marry _you_, you know. I am very happy now, of course, but I was forced into it, and--you don’t bear me any grudge, do you?’ Then if they can, and if the husband is fool enough to stand it, they make a tame cat of the old sweetheart, and do their best to prevent him from marrying any one else, sacrificing his life’s happiness on the altar of their own petty, miserable vanity.” With which cynical, if partially true, reasoning he strove to allay the gnawing bitterness at his heart, and to forget the passionate love which Stella had so suddenly aroused there.