There was a sadness in his face as he approached and took a seat near her which at once disarmed her, drove away all indignation, and aroused pity. “You have been sick,” she said, kindly, and with some emotion. “Yes,” said Brandon, in a low voice, “but now that I am able to go about again my first act is to apologize to you for my rudeness in quitting the table so abruptly as to make it seem like a personal insult to you. Now I hope you will believe me when I say that an insult to you from me is impossible. Something like a spasm passed over my nervous system, and I had to hurry to my room.” “I confess,” said Beatrice, frankly, “that I thought your sudden departure had something to do with the conversation about me. I am very sorry indeed that I did you such a wrong; I might have known you better. Will you forgive me?” Brandon smiled, faintly. “You are the one who must forgive.” “But I hate my name so,” burst out Beatrice. Brandon said nothing. “Don’t you? Now confess.” “How can I--” he began. “You do, you do!” she cried, vehemently; “but I don’t care--for I hate it.” Brandon looked at her with a sad, weary smile, and said nothing. “You are sick,” she said; “I am thoughtless. I see that my name, in some way or other, recalls painful thoughts. How wretched it is for me to give pain to others!” Brandon looked at her appealingly, and said, “You give pain? Believe me! believe me! there is nothing but happiness where you are.” At this Beatrice looked confused and changed the conversation. There seemed after this to be a mutual understanding between the two to avoid the subject of her name, and although it was a constant mortification to Beatrice, yet she believed that on his part there was no contempt for the name, but something very different, something associated with better memories. They now resumed their old walks and conversations. Every day bound them more closely to one another, and each took it for granted that the other would be the constant companion of every hour in the day. Both had lived unusual lives. Beatrice had much to say about her Hong-Kong life, the Chinese, the British officers, and the festivities of garrison life. Brandon had lived for years in Australia, and was familiar with all the round of events which may be met with in that country. He had been born in England, and had lived there, as has already been mentioned, till he was almost a man, so that he had much to say about that mother-land concerning which Beatrice felt such curiosity. Thus they settled down again naturally and inevitably into constant association with each other.