Florella did not pick it or take it to herself. She was going away to-morrow; she would never know if it came into flower. Perhaps she would never know how Guy had reached Waynflete. She kissed the little bud, and then pulled her cloak straight and went home to supper, shutting up the new burden tight in her breast. Constancy, meanwhile, was sitting comfortably by the fire, when there was a crack of wheels on the wet gravel, a deep voice outside, an opening door, and Godfrey Waynflete's tall figure and flaxen head in the doorway. "Why, this is a surprise!" exclaimed Cosy. "Then there is nothing amiss at Waynflete, though your brother was sent for." "Then Guy has been here? I knew it--" "Not at all. But Mr Staunton has, and your brother telegraphed to him to say that Mrs Waynflete wanted him, and he had to go over." "Guy had to go to Waynflete? My aunt sent for him?" "So it appeared. Did you come here to look for him--so late?" Godfrey stood still, confused and unable to put two and two together so as to see what had taken place. He had posted some letters for his aunt yesterday, in his careless preoccupation, half an hour too late, and to-day he had had a telegram from Guy. "Constancy!" he cried, "I see, think, feel, no one but you. I was determined that Guy should not spoil my one chance of a last word with you." "But what made you suppose your brother was here?" interrupted Constancy. "He sent a telegram about a trap--at Kirk Hinton. I tore it up. I wasn't going to let him interfere with my last word with you. He might get a trap for himself." "And you didn't send it? Then you had better go after him as quick as you can; Mrs Waynflete wanted him, and I wouldn't have her disappointed for the world. Is she ill, dear old lady? Why did you come away? And oh, if I was your brother, wouldn't I give it you when you got home again!" Cosy stood up by the mantelpiece. Her eyes glittered mischievously. She enjoyed seeing Godfrey out of countenance. But Godfrey, after the first moment of surprise, felt nothing but that he was with her and alone. He came close up to her, and stood towering over her. "Constancy, I'd do a good deal more than that to buy this five minutes. Won't you give me a little hope? You'll never have another fellow give himself, heart and soul and body, to you as I do. I love you." "And I love fifty other things and other people. I haven't got a bit of feeling for you!" cried Cosy, desperately. "Why, I'm making a story out of you as you stand there before me. Is that caring anything about you?" "I don't know, and I don't care. I only know that I want you. Give me a chance. Without you I shall never come to good." "I don't think you will," said Constancy, suddenly and keenly. "I have said no, and there's an end of it. You seem to have played a very mean sort of trick on your brother, and you can't expect to get any good out of it. You certainly won't from me." "Constancy--"