How he hated the thought! How he loathed the idea! It seemed to him
unmanly, most ignoble--and yet there was no help for it. There was one
gleam of comfort for him, and only one. She was so quick, so keen, that
she would be sure to understand him at once, without his entering into
any long explanation. Few words would suffice, and those words he must
choose as best he could. If it were possible, he would speak to her
to-day--the sooner the better-and then all uncertainty would be ended.
It seemed to him, as he pondered these things, that a cloud had fallen
over the sunshine. In his heart he blamed the folly of that gentle
mother who had been the cause of all this anxiety.

"Such matters are always best left alone," he said to himself, "If I
should ever have children of my own, I will never interfere in their
love affairs."

Think as he would ponder as he would, it was no easy task that lay
before him--to tell her in so many words that he did not love her.
Surely no man had ever had anything so ungracious to do before.

He looked round the grounds, and presently saw her the center of a
brilliant group near the lake. The Duke of Ashwood was by her side, the
_élite_ of the guests had gathered round her. She--beautiful, bright,
animated--was talking, as he could see, with her usual grace and ease.
It struck him suddenly as absurd that this beautiful woman should
care--as people said she did care--for him.

Let him get it all over. He longed to see the bright face shine on him
with sisterly kindness, and to feel himself at ease with her; he longed
to have all misunderstanding done away with.