“Nothing. I have changed my mind—nothing at all!” The promise that she was about to ask was that he would not marry Dorothy, but her better nature rose in rebellion against it. Then they talked awhile of Ernest’s life abroad. “Well,” said Ernest, rising after a pause, “good-bye, Eva.” “It is a very cruel word,” she murmured. “Yes, it is cruel, but not more cruel than the rest.” “It has been a happiness to see you, Ernest.” He shrugged his shoulders as he answered. “Has it? For myself I am not sure if it has been a happiness or a misery. I must have a year or two of quiet and darkness to think it over before I make up my mind. Will you kindly ring the bell for the servant to take me away?” Half unconsciously she obeyed him, and then she came and took his hand and looked with all her eyes and all her soul into his face. It was fortunate that he could not see her. “O Ernest, you are blind!” she said, scarcely knowing what she said. He laughed—a hard little laugh. “Yes, Eva, _I_ am as blind now as _you_ have been always.” “Ernest! Ernest! how can I live without seeing you? _I love you!_” and she fell into his arms. He kissed her once—twice, and then somehow, he never knew how, found the strength to put her from him. Perhaps it was because he heard the servant coming. Next moment the servant came and led him away. As soon as he was gone Eva flung herself on to the sofa, and sobbed as though her heart would break. When Dorothy saw a fresh-faced young officer, who had come up to see Ernest, mysteriously lead him aside, and whisper something in his ear which caused him to turn first red and then white, being a shrewd observer, she thought it curious. But when Ernest asked her to ring the bell and then ordered a fly to be brought round at once, the idea of Eva at once flashed into her mind. She and no other must be at the bottom of this mystery. Presently the fly was announced, and Ernest went off without a word, leaving her to the tender mercies of the cherub, who was contemplating her with his round eye as he had contemplated Eva, and finding her also charming. It must be remembered that he had but just returned from South Africa, and was prepared, _faute de mieux,_ to fall in love with an apple-woman. How much more, then, would he succumb to the charms of the stately Eva and the extremely fascinating Dorothy! It was some time before the latter could get rid of his eyeglass. On an ordinary occasion she would have been glad enough to entertain him, for Dorothy liked a little male society; and the cherub, though he did look so painfully young, was not half a bad fellow, and after all his whole soul was in his eyeglass, and his staring was meant to be complimentary. But just now she had a purpose in her head, and was heartily glad when he departed to reflect over the rival attractions of the two charmers. [Illustration: “After many days.”]