"I trust all the same that his brilliance will not altogether overshadow your memory of _others_. I should not like to think that we were drifting apart. Still, if it should be so, I must resign myself. I could still be happy in thinking of you, Alec. _'Love that is love at all Asks for no earthly coronal'_-- but, I remember, you once expressed to me your opinion that _all poetry is rot_. So I will not bore you with quotations. It is pleasant here, and my cousins are very kind, and leave me alone to think as much as I like. I'm not, somehow, quite in the mood for the usual gaieties and frivolities of a country house. Last night we played Musical Chairs until two in the morning, and to-day I am a little weary. Your postscript gave me joy. I need not say that I reciprocate it, need I?... "I feel all that you are feeling, and somehow even know what you are doing, and if you did not write again until we meet, I should not be anxious. I have a trusting nature. But when you wire, remember that the telegraph boy has a good way to walk, and when telegrams arrive after midnight, it causes a sensation and much inquiry. Also I cannot help feeling that every one in the village, as well as at the Green Gate, has read the words I would like to keep to myself alone. I have a curious love of mystery--isn't mystery the great charm of all romance?--So to gratify this fancy of mine, sign your next telegram 'Johnson.' I know you won't mind. "When we meet again, all, I trust, will be clear and definite before us. Best love to dear Lady Walmer, and to yourself what I am sure you will know. Don't be angry with me for not writing oftener. I find it very difficult to express my thoughts, for alas, I have no command of language. Not only that, the pens here have one great fault--they won't write. Otherwise they're quite excellent.... Yes, your note has given me, as the French say, 'furiously to think.' "Hoping that all will go well with you, and looking forward, think me as always, "Yours, faithfully, "HARRY BROKE DE FREYNE." "There! that ought to keep her quiet for a month," he thought as he posted the letter, and with a sigh of relief turned back towards the Green Gate. CHAPTER XXV A SUNDAY AFTERNOON By this time Van Buren was entirely in Harry's confidence; that is to say, Harry had gradually trained him to bear without flinching the situation as Harry represented it. He believed Harry had a hopeless romantic affection for Mrs. Romer Wyburn which he was trying to stifle, and that Miss Walmer being hopelessly in love with _him_, he was doing his best to marry her, partly, as he candidly admitted, on worldly grounds.