“I know what will happen,” he said at last: “she will soon become reconciled to her fate. She will soon come to think that he is part of her life and I shall cease to be in any thought of hers. Well, perhaps that is the best thing that could happen. But I thought that she was not like other women. I fancied that when she knew... But you will see her again? You will tell her that I must see her--surely she will let me say good-bye to her.” “I can say nothing. But you must not see her now. Wait for a day or two. Oh, cannot you trust her to bear you in mind for a day or two? Did she not say that she loved you?” “And she does--I know that she does. Oh, it is the old story--the old story. Her father has forced her into this.” Amber could say nothing. She thought that it would be better for her not to go into the question of the antiquity of the story of a girl promising to marry a rich man, and her parents endeavouring to marry her to a poor one--that was the summary of the love story of Josephine West. He walked in silence--comparative silence--by her side until they reached the road once more. At the entrance to her home, he said humbly: “My dear Miss Severn, I feel that you have given me good advice. I will obey you--I will make no attempt to see her for some days. I knew that I should be right in coming to you. You will forgive me for the wild way I talked to you.” “If you had not talked in that way I would never speak to you again,” said Amber, giving him her hand. CHAPTER XXXI Amber ran upstairs to her room and threw herself not upon the little sofa in her dressing-room but upon the bed in her bedroom. She was guided in the right direction. She knew perfectly well that the cry which was coming was too big for a sofa--it was a bed-sized cry. She lay in her tears for more than an hour, and no one went near her to disturb her. Emotions were recognised as possible in this household--emotions and moods and sulks--and no member of the household--ancillary or otherwise--was allowed to interfere with another. Her mother was fortunate in having been at one time of her life of the same age as Amber, and she had a pretty good notion of how it was that her daughter did not come downstairs for tea. Lady Severn had heard her daughter’s comments upon the announcement of Josephine’s engagement, and having herself noticed the expression on the faces of her guests at The Weir on their return together from their stroll, she had no great difficulty in understanding how it was possible that Amber might be having a good cry after visiting her friend Josephine.