He stood there at the open window chatting with her, but what he said he had no idea. His one thought--the one question which now possessed him--was whether she still loved him, or whether the discovery he had made was the actual and painful truth. Tall and good-looking, clean-shaven, and essentially easy-going, he stood before her with his dark eyes fixed upon her--eyes full of devotion, for was she not his idol? She was telling him of a garden-party which her mother had arranged for the following Thursday, and pressing him to attend it. "I'm afraid I may have to be in London that day, dearest," he responded. "But if I may I'll come over to-morrow and play tennis. Will you be at home in the afternoon?" "No," she declared promptly, with a mischievous laugh, "I shan't. I shall be in the glen by the first bridge at four o'clock, and shall wait for you there." "Very well, I'll be there," he laughed. "But why should we meet in secret like this, when everybody knows of our engagement?" "Well, because I have a reason," she replied in a strained voice--"a strong reason." "You've grown suddenly shy, afraid of chaff, it seems." "My mother is, I fear, not altogether well disposed towards you, Walter," was her quick response. "Dad is very fond of you, as you well know; but Lady Heyburn has other views for me, I think." "And is that the only reason you wish to meet me in secret?" he asked. She hesitated, became slightly confused, and quickly turned the conversation into a different channel, a fact which caused him increased doubt and reflection. Yes, something certainly had occurred. That was vividly apparent. A gulf lay between them. Again he looked straight into her beautiful face, and fell to wondering. What could it all mean? So true had she been to him, so sweet her temperament, so high all her ideals, that he could not bring himself to believe ill of her. He tried to fight down those increasing doubts. He tried to put aside the naked truth which had arisen before him since his return to England. He loved her. Yes, he loved her, and would think no ill of her until he had proof, actual and indisputable. As far as the eligibility of Walter Murie was concerned there was no question. Even Lady Heyburn could not deny it when she discussed the matter over the tea-cups with her intimate friends.