A silence fell between us for some moments, broken only by the slow, solemn ticking of the long old clock near by. "And so, Tibbie, you intend to marry Ellice!" I remarked at last, looking straight into her handsome face. Yes; after all, there was an indescribable sweetness in her manner, whatever the world might say regarding her. "It's a secret. I've told nobody; therefore you'll not say a word, will you?" "Certainly not. But I congratulate you. Winsloe is, I believe, a real good fellow, and I can only hope you will love him." "I shall learn to love him in time, I suppose," she answered. "Look! there he is!" And glancing down I saw the well-set-up figure, in drab tweeds with his gun across his shoulder, striding over the park, together with her brother Jack, my old friend Eric Domville, Lord Wydcombe, and several ladies of the house-party in shooting kit, followed by the keepers and dogs. "Tibbie," I said, seriously, turning to her. "You know we've known each other many years. I was your first sweetheart, and afterwards your friend. I am still your firm friend, and as such I may be permitted to give you a single word of advice--to urge you not to marry that man unless you really love him." "I know, my dear old Wilfrid," she said, smiling prettily. "You are such a philosopher. You ought to have been a parson. Nowadays women don't marry for love. They unfortunately put that away with their short skirts. They marry for convenience." And she gazed again out of the lead-lighted window. "But is it wise of you? Remember I am still your platonic friend, and have every regard for your future happiness. To serve you I am always ready. That you know. Only command me, Tibbie." She hesitated for a moment, then turning to me with that strange, anxious look upon her countenance, an expression most unusual for her, she said in a low, intense voice,-- "I wonder if I might actually take you at your word, Wilfrid. I wonder if--if--" and she hesitated, pursing her lips, and I saw that her hand trembled. "Of course I'm always ready to assist you," I said, somewhat surprised at her sudden change of manner. "Ah! no!" she gasped, suddenly pale to the lips, a strange look of terror in her eyes. "My secret! I am very foolish. I cannot tell it to you--you of all men. It is too terrible. You would hate me!" "Your secret!" I echoed. "What secret, Tibbie? Tell me?" But she turned away from me, and covering her white face with her hands, burst into a flood of tears. CHAPTER TWO. REVEALS A WOMAN'S SECRET. That evening, as I changed for dinner in the quaint old tapestried room, with its ancient carved four-poster and green silk hangings, I reflected deeply. What, I wondered, was Tibbie's secret?