step must be to put Miss Bernard in touch with the position of affairs.
It may seem a delicate matter to hint to your host's _fiancée_ that if
she, on mature reflection, likes you better than him, there is still
time; but Haddington was not afflicted with delicacy. After all, in such
a case a great deal depends upon the lady, and Haddington, though
doubtful how Kate would regard a direct proposal to break off her
engagement, was yet tolerably confident that she would not betray him
to Eugene.

He found her seated on the terrace that was the usual haunt of the
ladies in the forenoon and the scene of Eugene's dutiful labors as
reader-aloud. Kate was not looking amiable; and scarce six feet from her
there lay open on the ground a copy of the Laureate's works.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Bernard?"

"Oh, no. You see, I am alone. Mr. Lane was here just now, but he's
gone."

"How's that?" asked Haddington, seating himself.

"He got a telegram, read it, flung his book away, and rushed off."

"Did he say what it was about?"

"No; I didn't ask him."

A pause ensued. It was a little difficult to make a start.

"And so you are alone?"