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It was as though a whirlwind had caught her away from the earth into a sunlit paradise that was all her own a paradise in which fear had no place. And the chain against which she had chafed so long and bitterly had turned to links of purest gold. The Consolation Prize "So you don't want to marry me?" said Earl Wyverton. He said it by no means bitterly.
"Tell me why," he said. "Oh, because you are so far above me," the girl said, with an effort. "You must remember that. You can't help it. I have always known that you were not in earnest." "Have you?" said Lord Wyverton, smiling a little. "Have you? You seem to have rather a high opinion of me, Miss Neville." She turned back to her flowers.
Thereafter she went back to her multitudinous duties without an apparent second thought, shouldering her burden with her usual serenity; and no one imagined for a moment what tumultuous hopes and doubts underlay her calm exterior. Lord Wyverton left the place, and the general aspect of things returned to their usual placidity.
His brows relaxed, but he did not smile. "I am sure of that," he said, courteously. "Please continue." Molly leaned slightly forward. "I think one should be honest at all times," she said, "at whatever cost. Lord Wyverton, Phyllis isn't in love with you at all. She cares for Jim Freeman, the doctor's assistant an awfully nice boy; and he cares for her.
And, knowing it, she possessed more than the whole world, and found it enough. Late that night, when at last Molly lay down to rest with the morrow's bride by her side, there came the final revelation of that amazing day. Neither she nor Wyverton had spoken a word to any of that which was between them. It was not their hour; or, rather, the time had not arrived for others to share in it.
"Thank you," said Lord Wyverton, and he stooped with an odd little smile, and kissed first one and then the other of the hands he held. No one, save Phyllis, knew of the contract made on that golden morning in June on the edge of the flowering meadows; and even to Phyllis only the bare outlines of the interview were vouchsafed.
Wyverton's extended hand fell to his side. "Now what is it you want to say to me?" he asked her, quietly. Molly's hands were clasped in her lap. They did not tremble, but they gripped one another rather tightly. "I want to say a good many things," she said, after a moment. Lord Wyverton smiled suddenly. He had meeting brows, but his smile was reassuring. "Yes?" he said. "About your sister?"
"There are certain things," she said, in a low voice, "that one can't help knowing." "And one of them is that Lord Wyverton is too fond of larking to be considered seriously at any time?" he questioned. She did not answer. He stood and watched her speculatively. "And so you won't have anything to say to me?" he said at last. "In fact, you don't like me?"
An odd sense of powerlessness had taken possession of her, and she knew it had become visible to him, for she saw his face alter. "I know I'm ugly," he said, abruptly; "but I'm not frowning, believe me." She understood the allusion and laughed rather faintly. "I'm not afraid of you, Lord Wyverton," she said. He smiled at her. "Thank you," he said. "That's kind. I'm coming to the point.
"And you are really going to marry Earl Wyverton," she said. "How nice, Phyl! Did he make love to you?" There was a distinct pause before Phyllis replied. "No. There was no need." "He didn't!" ejaculated Molly. "I didn't encourage him to," Phyllis confessed. "He went away directly after. He said he should come to-morrow and see dad." "I suppose he's frightfully rich?" said Molly, reflectively.
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