coming, he bent forward and without explanation or excuse put his arms
around Jane, and lifting her as though she were a child, he bore her
down the path which led to the summer-house. She was heavy, but, sooth
to say, he could have wished the journey longer. Presently they were
there, and very gently he laid her on her feet again, kissing her upon
the lips as he did so. Then he took off his overcoat and wrapped it
round her shoulders.

All this while Jane had not spoken. Indeed, the poor girl felt so happy
and so safe in her lover's arms that it seemed to her as though she
never wished to speak, or to do anything for herself again. It was
Leonard who broke the silence.

"You ask me why I left without saying good-bye to you, Jane. It was
because your father has dismissed me from the house and forbidden me to
have any more to do with you."

"Oh, why?" asked the girl, lifting her hands despairingly.

"Can't you guess?" he answered with a bitter laugh.

"Yes, Leonard," she whispered, taking his hand in sympathy.

"Perhaps I had better put it plainly," said Leonard again; "it may
prevent misunderstandings. Your father has dismissed me because _my_
father embezzled all my money. The sins of the father are visited
upon the children, you see. Also he has done this with more than usual
distinctness and alacrity, because he wishes you to marry young Mr.
Cohen, the bullion-broker and the future owner of Outram."