and steadily, intending to work round the enemy's flank, and perhaps dislodge him altogether without firing a shot. Guy made no counter-move. He had a glimmering suspicion of her object, but he felt confident in his own position, and he shrank from an attack. His indolence and dislike of mental conflict made him do so; and his keen enjoyment of all that was pleasant and beautiful strengthened his reluctance. There was no hurry, he thought, and it was all so delightful. Instead of the howling hot wind and the sun and the dust, there was the cool green English summer with its birds and its flowers. Everything in England was so luxurious too, so finished. From the trim hedges and fields and velvety lawns to the carefully-furnished rooms, all spoke of the loving care of successive generations. Everything in India was so rough in comparison. There Englishmen were an army in camp. No one could hope to remain in the same house more than a few years. The taste of an individual might throw a momentary charm over a barrack-like bungalow or a hastily raised flower-garden, but the next occupant might neglect the garden and furnish only one room of the house, and in a year everything would have fallen into decay, like Eastern buildings and things in general. The contrast struck Guy very strongly. He could rough it, and he could see the picturesque side of Indian life; but the comfort and luxurious beauty born of wealth and time and quietness were a real delight to him.

He spent his morning wandering over the stables and the grounds with the girls and his mother. In the afternoon they all went to the Schneiders for tennis, and the drive was beautiful; and every one was glad to see him, and Clara Schneider looked quite pretty with her heightened colour and bright eyes. When they came back they dined by the open windows; and after dinner Guy went out with his mother, and they strolled down the lawn to the stream. They stood leaning over the little wooden bridge, and chatted, and watched the water-rats playing under the bank, until the long twilight closed in. Nothing was said by mother or son to mar the peace of a happy day.

So it went on for two or three days longer. They seemed to have completely forgotten Helen Treveryan, who was waiting alone in the pine-clad mountains, trying hard to be patient and not to doubt, but wondering sadly at times whether her lover would ever come back to her. If he did not? Well, it would be very dreadful; but so long as it was for his happiness she could bear it.

CHAPTER XXI

A DRAWN GAME

IT was Roland who brought matters to a head. Roland was always putting his foot in it. He duly arrived two or three days after Guy, looking sensibly bigger about the chest and less boyish. Oxford evidently agreed with him.

That night, after the family circle broke up, the two brothers met in the smoking-room and had a quiet hour over their tobacco. Roland was going to colour a new meerschaum. He lit it carefully with a fusee, to avoid burning the edge, and held it scrupulously by the amber to avoid touching the bowl, which was just tinted with a faint primrose colour. Guy lighted a cigar, and then sat back in an easy chair, and started Roland with a question or two. The boy was always ready to talk about Oxford, and he went on merrily for some time, only interrupting himself at intervals to worship the sacred pipe. Owing to a very high meerschaum plug it only lasted a few minutes; and it could not be smoked again till it was cool, lest the colour should burn. The pleasures Roland got out of it were the pleasures of hope rather than those of fruition. How young Roland was, Guy thought; but he could remember when he had done just the same thing. This was not improbable, as it was only three or four years before. Roland did not think himself young. On the contrary, he was a man among other men; and he was just a little inclined to look with diminished reverence upon Guy, who was supposed to have followed Harry's example and 'made an ass of himself about a woman.'

After a time, emboldened by his own conversation, and by Guy's good humour and abstention from chaff, Roland was im

prudent enough to introduce that delicate subject. By the way, old chap,' he said, 'the mother seems quite happy again, so I suppose you have got out of that business all right?'

Guy was taken by surprise. He coloured hotly, and his face showed extreme annoyance. He objected altogether to Roland's interference in the matter; and he resented the rather patronising tone in which the question was put. Got out of what business?' he said.

Roland began to feel embarrassed, and laughed uneasily. 'Oh, I meant, you know, about the lovely young woman in India.' 'I don't know why you should suppose anything of the kind,' Guy said, in a rather lofty tone. 'I am not in the habit of changing my mind in those matters, and the affair is exactly where it was before.'

I

'Oh, I am awfully sorry,' Roland answered, floundering heavily; 'I did not know it was really a serious business. thought from the mother's being so chirpy that it was all over. I am very sorry I said anything about it.'

For a minute Guy was silent. Roland's words had irritated him and aroused his pride or his vanity. He felt angry with his mother for treating him like a child, and a little vexed with himself at finding that he had been so easily influenced. Then he thought of Helen, and what a shame it was on her account. Anyhow, it was impossible that he could acquiesce and drop the whole thing without a word. For the sake of his own self-respect he must make a fight of it even if he were going to give in eventually; and he was not going to give in eventually. Before he had got his thoughts quite clear he broke out into a rather vehement protest against the way in which he had been treated, and against the part which his mother expected him to play. she thinks it is all over,' he said, 'she is very much mistaken. I have said nothing about it, because so long as I am not attacked I don't want to be disagreeable; but I feel exactly as I did before, and I am not going to be forced into doing what is dishonourable.'

'If

'Dishonourable?' Roland answered; 'I did not know there was anything of that sort.'

'Well, wouldn't it be dishonourable to give a girl up if you had proposed to her and she cared for you? And besides, I don't want to give her up. You don't know what she is, or you would understand.' And Guy's objection to being thought capable of having made a mistake, and his love for Helen, com

bined to give him an eloquence which surprised both Roland and himself. He described in glowing terms her beauty and her goodness, and the merits and services of her father, and the honour in which both of them were held. Guy spoke well when he was roused, and he spoke admirably then.

Roland, with his simple, straightforward nature, was quite carried away by his brother's warmth and chivalrous feeling. He was specially moved by Guy's description of the way in which Helen had refused to sacrifice his future, and had finally sent him to England. 'By George! that was splendid of her,' Roland said, his honest young eyes bright with enthusiasm. 'I am awfully sorry I ever thought badly of her; but I did not know all that. Mother had some story about her going on tremendously with that fellow Pitt Wright who was staying with them, and of course I thought she knew all about it.' This was a sore point with Guy, and he lashed out savagely about Pitt Wright. When he had finished his story, Roland was quite overcome. 'What a mean brute!' he exclaimed; ‘I shouldn't have thought a man could be such a cad as that. He was at Eton, too, and Oxford.' Then he went on to confess his repentance and complete conversion. He begged Guy to speak to his mother at once. Of course she would understand, and would withdraw all her objections. No one could help seeing that Guy was perfectly right. It was only that they did not know the facts and had been told what was not true. There could not be two opinions about it. As to money, it seemed to him that Guy would have plenty; and even supposing, for the sake of argument, that everything went wrong, did Guy suppose for a moment that any of them would touch his share? Of course he was right to stick to Helen, and Roland would be proud to feel she was his sister. Guy might count upon him, whatever happened. He never suspected that even then Guy was wondering a little at the rapidity of his enthusiasm. Guy certainly seemed, and was, pleased at it; and when at last they had finished their talk, he took his brother into his own room and showed him Helen's photograph. Roland looked at it for a minute and gave it back. 'Just the sort of face I should have expected,' he said; 'I don't wonder at your sticking to her against all the world. Give her my love and tell her I long to know her.'

When Roland left the room, Guy stood looking at the photograph and thinking over the conversation. 'What a good boy

Ro is,' he said to himself. 'He would back one through thick

and thin.'

Next morning, before breakfast, Roland saw his mother walk out alone on to the gravel among the flower-beds. He finished his dressing quickly and joined her. Good morning, mother.' 'Good morning, Ro.'

'I am glad I found you, mother; I wanted a chance of speaking to you. We've been all wrong about Guy and Miss Trever

yan.'

Lady Mary looked at him with surprise and contempt. 'What do you mean?'

6

Well, I have been talking to Guy, mother. She seems to have behaved awfully well, and she is awfully pretty, too, and Guy is really fond of her. I am certain he will stick to her, whatever happens.'

This was just the way to rouse Lady Mary. We will see about that,' she said. 'In any case, you had better let Guy speak for himself. You cannot possibly know anything about it except what he has told you, and he was not likely to think her anything but "awfully pretty."

Ro felt rebuffed. 'All right, mother,' he answered humbly. 'Of course it is not my business. I only thought you would like to know. I am certain he did mean it.'

'I daresay. We shall see,' Lady Mary said again, and she walked in through the dining-room window. Her manner to Roland was sometimes very insolent, if such a word is applicable to a mother.

Soon afterwards the ball opened.

Guy came in to breakfast rather late, and seemed out of spirits. He spoke little and ate little, and looked preoccupied. After breakfast he smoked a cigarette outside with Roland and the girls, but Lady Mary had hardly finished a short interview with her housekeeper before he tapped at the door of her writingShe knew his step, and was ready for him. 'Well,' she said, looking up with a smile, 'what do you want with me? You look as if your business was very serious.'

room.

'So it is, mother,' he said, and he came up near her table and leant back against the chimneypiece. Can you spare me a few

minutes?'

'Of course, dear, as many as you like.
'I wanted to speak to you about .
'Yes?'

What is it?' your letters.'