"Oh! but I found out afterwards that they had known each other as children, and been old playmates and friends. I confess I was angry, and—very, well—I suppose jealous. Afterwards I danced the last waltz with him, almost in spite of myself, and when it was over we walked up the island in the moonlight. Dido," suddenly raising her eyes to her cousin's, "I shall never forget that night if I live to be a hundred! The look of the sea, the stillness, the fire-flies, and the moon, bright as day, casting sharp shadows of palms, and cactus plants, across our path. I shut my eyes, and I can see it now. Then we talked. He told me that he was going away the next day—a trip to the Nicobars. He also told me that he understood that I was going to be married to Mr. Quentin, whom you know I detest,—and offered me his congratulations! Of course I denied this indignantly, and he seemed positively not inclined to believe me at first, and then—and then—he asked me. He told me—I need not go on—Dido, you understand the rest!"
"And am I to understand that you said 'Yes'?"
"I believe so."
"You had no idea who he really was all the time?"
"I knew he was a gentleman, that he was well educated, and well bred; like every one else, I thought he was poor, but that made no difference to me."
"You never dreamt that he was the Honourable Gilbert Lisle, with about twelve thousand a year?"
"Never! He was commencing to tell me something, when Mrs. Creery swooped down upon us, and carried me off."
"Hateful old woman! And afterwards?"
"We never had an opportunity of speaking till the very last moment. He followed me towards our bungalow, and said he would come over and see papa early the next morning, before he sailed if possible. If not to look for him in six weeks time,—and to be sure not to forget him."
"Well?" ejaculated her listener breathlessly.