"I have told you my friend's story. How dearly he loves the lady it was his sorrow to know and love too late, I can find no words to tell you. He is a soldier, and he calls himself a man of honour; but he is so weak and helpless in his misery that he has need of counsel from a mind less troubled than his own. He is willing to do his duty, if he can be told wherein his duty lies. Should he write to his betrothed, and confess the truth, trusting in her generosity to set him free?--I am sure she would do so." There was a brief pause before Cecil said,-- "I am sure of it too, though I do not know her. But do you think she would ever be happy again?" "I cannot answer for that. Ah, Lady Cecil, I know what you think my friend's duty is." "There can be no question about it. He must keep his promise," she answered firmly. "Even if in so doing he forfeits the happiness of his future life; if in so doing he ties himself for ever and ever to the dull wheel of duty; even if he dares to think that his love is not altogether unreturned by her he loves so truly and so hopelessly? Oh, Cecil, be merciful! Remember it is the fate of a lifetime you are deciding." "I cannot advise your friend to be false to his word," replied Cecil. "I am sorry for his sorrow. But it is a noble thing to do one's duty. I think he will be happier in the end if he keeps his promise." She looked up at him with a bright, brave glance as she spoke. Their eyes met, and her face changed, in spite of the heroic effort she made to preserve its exalted tranquillity. They stood alone on the narrow sands, with a mournful wind moaning past them, a drizzling rain drifting in their faces, as unconscious of any change in the weather as they were unconscious of all things in the universe--except each other. "I am going back to London by the mail to-night, Lady Cecil. We shall be together for the rest of the day, I hope,--my last day; but we are not likely to be alone again, and I should like to say good-bye to you here." He lifted his hat, and the wind and rain drifted his hair away from his face. "Cecil, I am going back to India, to do my duty, with God's help. Say, God bless you, Hector, and goodbye." "God bless you, Hector, and----" She looked up at the perfect face, the dark blue eyes, so dim with tears, and could not finish the sentence. She turned from her companion with a passionate gesture, ashamed of her own weakness, and walked homewards rapidly, with Hector walking silently by her side. They did not speak until they came to the idle boats, lying keel upwards on the beach, which marked the beginning of the village, and then Captain Gordon broke the silence by a remark which proved that he had only that moment discovered the change in the weather. "If you'll stop under shelter of that yacht, Lady Cecil," he said, "I'll run on and get a shawl and umbrella."