afraid?"

"Did I tell you I was--at Naples?"

"No, you said nothing about it."

"Then I don't know. And I should like to know," said John Marcher.
"You'll tell me yourself whether you think so. If you'll watch with me
you'll see."

"Very good then." They had been moving by this time across the room, and
at the door, before passing out, they paused as for the full wind-up of
their understanding. "I'll watch with you," said May Bartram.




CHAPTER II


The fact that she "knew"--knew and yet neither chaffed him nor betrayed
him--had in a short time begun to constitute between them a goodly bond,
which became more marked when, within the year that followed their
afternoon at Weatherend, the opportunities for meeting multiplied. The
event that thus promoted these occasions was the death of the ancient
lady her great-aunt, under whose wing, since losing her mother, she had
to such an extent found shelter, and who, though but the widowed mother
of the new successor to the property, had succeeded--thanks to a high
tone and a high temper--in not forfeiting the supreme position at the
great house. The deposition of this personage arrived but with her