 will wish to see me?« she asked timidly.
    »I can't be sure. I half think not.«
    »Yet I half wish he would. I should find it strange and a little difficult,
but he couldn't be harsh with me. I think it might do good if he came to see me
- in a day or two.«
    »On what terms have you always been with him? How does he behave to you?«
    »Oh, you know him. He still looks upon me rather too much as a child, and he
seems to have a pleasure in saying odd, half-rude things; but we are excellent
friends - or have been. Such a delightful day as we had at Baiæ! I have always
liked him.«
    »At Baiæ? You didn't go alone with him?«
    »No; Miriam was there and Mr. Spence. We found him dreaming at Pozzuoli, and
carried him off in the boat with us.«
    »He never thought much of me, and now he hates me.«
    »No; that is impossible.«
    »If you had heard him speaking to me last night, you would think
differently. He makes it a crime that I should love you.«
    »I don't understand it.«
    »What's more, he has feared this ever since I came; I feel sure of it. When
I was coming back from Pompeii, he took me with him to Amalfi all but by force.
He dreaded my returning and seeing you.«
    »But why should he think of such a thing?«
    »Why?«
    Elgar led her a few paces, until they stood before a mirror.
    »Don't look at me. The other face, which is a little paler than it should
be.«
    She hid it against him.
    »But you don't love me for my face only? You will see others who have more
beauty.«
    »Perhaps so. Mallard hopes so, in the long time we shall have to wait.«
    She fixed startled eyes on him.
    »He cannot wish me so ill - he cannot! That would be unlike him.«
    »He wishes you no ill, be sure of it.«
    »Oh, you haven't spoken to him as you should! You haven't made him
understand you. Let me speak to him for you.«
    »Cecily.«
    »Dearest?«
    »Suppose he doesn't wish to understand me. Have you
