'Break your promise to me, love! How could you? What would be the value in my mind of vows at the altar if I thought you would not keep a solemn promise like that? The woman who would, after my explanation, break a promise such as that, would care little how she broke any vows or oaths.' She looked up at him with some of her old archness. 'I know whom all this is aimed at!' 'Whom?' 'The only man I know who doesn't believe anything is Mr Nevill; and you know he and I were great friends once.' Osborne shook his head gravely. 'I should not like you to marry a man such as he.' 'George, George, the service is over, and we have not minded it.' 'The service has not yet begun.' 'Begun! The people are all going away.' 'Wait a moment, and you will see I am right.' When the people had cleared off, and they were almost alone in the portion of the church where they sat, he said,-- 'Let us kneel hand-in-hand for a betrothal.' She took off her glove. He knelt at her left side and took her hand. He let go her hand in a moment. A vivid blush darted over her face, and they both rose. As she did so, upon the third finger of her left hand flashed five rubies she had never seen before. CHAPTER V. AN INTRODUCTION. Shortly after Osborne and Miss Gordon had left the drawing-room, Nevill raised his head, and saw he and Miss Osborne were alone. 'Bless my soul!' he cried, 'but they have slipped out. They are as artful as a pair of conspiring schoolboys.' She turned away her calm fair face to the room, and said,-- 'I did not hear them go.' 'That was their artfulness. Ah well, Miss Osborne, there is nothing sharpens the wits so much as love.' She made no reply. She felt a great reserve about George's love-affair. She spoke little or nothing to Marie about it. She would not speak to Mr Nevill. He might take it ill or well of her, but she would not speak. The sallow, plain-looking man raised his eyes quickly to hers. 'I suppose, Miss Osborne, you never met a greater fool than I?' 'Oh, Mr Nevill! How could you say such a thing! I am sure I never thought anything of the kind.' 'You always look at me as if you thought me a very great fool.' 'I am exceedingly sorry,' she said, with an appealing look, 'and I hope you forgive me. I did not mean it, believe--' 'Ah yes,' he sighed; 'I am sure you did not mean it I am quite sure of that. But what are you to do? You can't help it. You are young and candid. You see me. Your estimate of me immediately appears on your face. You cannot help letting me see you think me a very great fool.' 'But I assure you I do not think you anything of the kind,' cried the girl, in distress. She did not like to be drawn into an animated discussion, and nothing in the world could pain her more than to think she had unwittingly inflicted pain on others.