"I ask you, however, not to disclose it, for the present," he continued. "I want to look around a bit--and pick out a place, and--you understand." "No, I do not understand," she replied, implying much more than she conveyed; "but, if you wish, I shall hold it confidential until you release me--I fancy the notion will not linger overlong." "Mademoiselle still doubts?" he smiled. "Monsieur still plays on my credulity." "You will see!" "I shall be very glad to see!" she laughed, (meaning the end of his masquerade). "What--my staying or my leaving?" "Whatever is for the best," she evaded. "Rather enigmatic!" he said. "Do you mean, the best for me, or the best for the Colony?" "They should be identical--the best for the Colony should be the best for you." "In theory, possibly, but not always in practice. The best thing for me may be to stay, but it may be the worst for the Colony." "That can be determined only by trial," she said. "In the meantime, what do you think it will be?" "Which brings us back to the starting point!" he laughed. "We have rounded the circle. I think it will be that I stay." "Then, I hope it will prove pleasant and profitable." "And you will stand my friend?" he asked. "What makes you think I shall not?" she said, evasively. "Nothing--I only wanted to have your promise safely filed away." "I fancy every one will be glad to be your friend, Sir Edward,"--(smiling) "so long as you deserve it." "So long as I deserve it," he repeated, with a laugh. "Do you think the time may come when they will deem it well to give me their backs?" "Not at all!" she replied. "I would have said the same to any one--under similar circumstances." His eyes studied her--he did not miss the qualifying phrase, but he took it to apply to him as an Englishman. "If all my Annapolis acquaintances are as glad to have me one of them, as you are," he remarked, "my welcome will not turn my head." "Are you in search of flattery, or do you honestly want what I think?" "What you think; by all means, what you think," he said. "Well, you have it--you cannot persuade me, that one of Sir Edward Parkington's standing, in London, can ever voluntarily become a Colonist. If he does, there must be a cause--and a cause means----" "What, mademoiselle?" She shrugged her pretty shoulders, "I do not know, monsieur; but I have a woman's intuition, and it tells me----" "Yes," he said, "tells you what?" She looked at him with a quizzical smile. "That Sir Edward Parkington will never settle in the Colonies," she replied. He thought of the dead man, in the grave by the seashore, near St. Mary's. "Sir Edward is quite content with his present abode," he said, and laughed. "Yes, for a time," thinking he referred to Hedgely Hall. "For all time, and eternity, too." "Am I to take that as compliment?" she asked.