“It is relatively an old story. When he was a schoolboy he was much favored by his friends the Grandieres, who lived at Oldfield, near Forest Rest, where his foster-mother, Miss Bayard, lived, and where Roland was reared. Rosemary was a baby. He used to pet her very much and tell her that she was his sweetheart, and his little wife, and all such childish nonsense as that. And I think they kept it up until Rosemary was sent to boarding school with our girls. Since that time—some five years ago now—I think there has been no more of it. I thought it was all forgotten long ago.” “But it is not, you see. The child thinks that she is engaged to him.” “I wonder if she is attached to him,” said the lady, thoughtfully. “I do not quite know. Perhaps, as she believes herself to be engaged, she may also only believe that she is attached to him. It is a subject upon which one cannot very closely cross-examine a young girl.” “No, you could not; but I must,” replied the lady. “Without mentioning my name, if you please, Elfrida,” said the earl, who also religiously refrained from telling his sister of his proposal to Rosemary, lest Mrs. Force should try to influence the girl in his favor. And he did not wish the latter to be worried or coerced in any way. “Certainly without mentioning your name. I shall know how to manage with tact and discretion,” replied the lady. “One word more, Elfrida. Would you approve of a marriage between this Roland Bayard and Rosemary Hedge?” inquired the earl. “Yes, I should.” “That is all.” “But I have not the disposal of the child’s hand, so my own approval goes for nothing.” “It is enough,” said the earl, and he opened the window looking from the parlor to the balcony and went out there to walk and smoke. CHAPTER VI A STRANGE MEETING The middle of October found the Forces with their party again at Rome, settled in their old quarters. News of the war came by every mail, bringing accounts of battles fought, and lost or won. They were of those few who in the dreadful struggle could not take any side. They only longed for peace and reconciliation. They passed the winter in Rome, but in the early spring Mr. and Mrs. Force and their daughters began to long for their native country even more than for their particular home. There seemed no present prospect of an end to the fratricidal war. The holocausts of youth, manhood and heroism offered up monthly to the Devil of Discord did not seem to appease his rapacity. Every mail brought news of new battles and of thousands and tens of thousands slain on either side; the storm of war raging more and more furiously as the months went on.