“She thinks I’m better than I am,” said Hollyer. “Go on thinking it. That’s the way to make him better.” She was smiling at Effie as if she liked her. All through tea-time and after they talked about Wilfrid’s playing and Wilfrid and Wyck, and the people of Wyck, and how they knew nothing and cared nothing about Wilfrid’s playing. Twilight came, twilight of October. He was going to walk back with Effie down the hill to Lower Wyck. As the house door closed behind them he said: “Now you know why I’m nothing but an organist at Wyck.” “Wilfrid, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen yet—your mother. No wonder you can’t leave her.” “It isn’t that altogether. I mean we’re tied here because we can’t afford to leave; and because I’ve got this organ job. I should never have had it anywhere else.” He paused. “And you know, I couldn’t live on it—without mother. She’s got the house.” Effie said nothing. “So here I am. Thirty-five and still dependent on my mother.” “Oh, Wilfrid, what will you do when—when—” “When my mother dies? That’s the awful thing. I shall have enough then. There’ll be the house and her income. I hate to think of it. I don’t think of it—” “You see,” he went on, “when I was a kid I was so seedy they didn’t think I’d live. So I was brought up to do nothing. Nothing but my playing. They gave me this job just to keep me quiet. And now I’m strong enough, but there’s nothing else I can do.” He hung his head, frowning gloomily. “You know why I’m telling you all this?” “No. But I’m glad you’ve told me.” “It’s because—because—if I had a decent income, Effie, I’d ask you to marry me. As it is, I can only hope that you won’t ever care for me as I care for you.” [Illustration] “But I _do_ care for you. You know I do.” “Would you have married me, Effie? Do you care as much as that?” “You know I would. I will the minute you ask me.” “I shall never ask you.” “Why not? I can wait.” “My dear, for what?” He paused again. “I can’t marry in my mother’s lifetime.” “Oh, Wilfrid—I didn’t mean that. Your dear, beautiful mother. You know I didn’t.” “Of course, darling, I know. But there it is.” He left her at the gate of the cottage where she lived with her father. As he went back up the hill he meditated on his position. He was right to make it clear to her, now that she had begun to care for him. He would have told her long ago if he had known that she cared. Yesterday he didn’t know it. But to-day there had been something, in her manner, in her voice, in the way she looked at him in the church after his playing, that had told him. Poor little Effie. She would have nothing either, unless her father—and Effie’s father was a robust man, not quite fifty.