"Never! Not for the world. My pride wouldn't let me even if I wanted to do it, and I don't--I don't! I love the house and the life with you even more than I expected, it's only that I'm sorry about. I _do_ like to live at peace with all men. Doesn't it worry you, Charmion, to feel yourself unjustly accused?" "It would have done once. At your age. Since then"--her eyes took the blank, far-away look which always attended even the faintest allusion to the past--"since then I have lost the power of caring. When one has borne the one big hurt, the gnats have no power to sting." I looked up eagerly, but she rose from her seat, pressing one hand gently over my eyes. "No! Don't ask me! You have been very sweet, very forbearing. One great reason why my heart went out to you, Evelyn, was that you never questioned, never tried to probe. Go on being patient! Some day you shall know. I should like to tell you now, but I can't, I can't! You must wait. Some day the impulse will come, then it may be a relief. Till then, Evelyn, you must wait!" CHAPTER NINE. AN ENCOUNTER IN FORCE. It is three months since we came to Pastimes, and until last week the days have slipped by happily and peacefully enough, but without any happenings worthy of record. We returned the Vicar's call, and were asked to tea to meet ourselves, when Mrs Merrivale took the opportunity to ask me the address of my dressmaker! Two staid dames, who lived in small villa residences, left cards at the door, an attention which we duly returned in kind. The important people in the neighbourhood have left us severely alone, whirling past our gates to pay assiduous calls on General Underwood. He is the local hero, and we are the hard-hearted strangers who did _Something_--nobody knows precisely _what_--but _Something_ mean, and underhand, and altogether unwomanly about a lease, and so forced the poor dear General to endure draughts and cold rooms, and seriously retarded his progress towards health! It's no use pretending that I am not sorry about it, for I _am_; but all the same, they have been happy months. Charmion has seemed so much brighter and more contented, and that itself means much to me, and we have been as happy as bees in our beloved garden, bullying our one man into preparing what he considers absolutely mad effects, and working with him to keep him up to the mark. We have flagged one path, and turfed over another, raised some beds, and sunk others, and contrived a really glorious hot-weather arbour, a good six yards in diameter, and open on three sides, to secure plenty of fresh air and an absence of flies. Charmion has hardly gone out of the gate, except to church on Sundays, but I take a constitutional every day, and scour the country-side.