"Yes, I kept the rendezvous; while you, sir, went strolling to the Bay with Miss Marbury--nor ever thought to cast even one look toward the rose-walk." There could be no profit in prevaricating further. He was caught, and the quickest way out was to admit it. "I did," he said humbly. "I did." "Why did you not acknowledge it, at first?" she questioned. "I thought, perhaps, you also had forgotten." She looked at him, searchingly. "Did you really _forget_?" she asked. "As God is my witness!--until we were returning, I never thought of it. Then, as soon as I could leave Miss Marbury, I hastened to the rose-walk, and found it--deserted." "It is a fine gentleman," she exclaimed, "who forgets one appointment, when another, more to his taste, intervenes!" "I protest that you are unjust," he said. "I forgot, I admit, but I did it unwittingly and not of intention." "Even that is unforgettable." "But it is not unforgiveable," he pleaded. She shook her head, and moved on, slowly. "But it is not unforgiveable," he repeated. "No, it is not unforgiveable," she said; "but--we will say no more about it, for the present. Whether I can forgive you, will depend on the future--there is still another matter which will require explanation," and she looked at him, thoughtfully. "Another matter?" he interrogated--"that requires explanation, from me?" "I think so." "And will it call for your forgiveness, too?" "I cannot answer," she said. A puzzled frown appeared between his eyes. "Does that mean, you cannot or you will not." "It means, I cannot--it depends upon your explanation; and whether it be asked for." "Then the explanation is not to be made to you?" "No!" "To whom is it to be made?" he asked. She shook her head. "That will be disclosed, presently." "To-night?" he persisted. "It will not be to-night." "Then, we will forget it!" he said, gayly. "The morrow may care for itself--it will be soon enough when it comes. We will fancy these trees the rose-garden--I am keeping a belated rendezvous with you." He swept the turf with his hat. "What do you wish of me, my lady?" "It is too late," she answered. "What I wished of you, I wish no more. It has passed from my hands--it is beyond me." He was sobered, instantly. She could mean only that it had passed into the Governor's hands--but what?--Suddenly, he understood a part. "I see," said he, "you wanted to give me a chance to explain; you appointed the rendezvous, and I failed you. Then, in your reasonable and just anger, you told the Governor."