Browning and Sedgwick had been in England two weeks.  The question of the marriage of Browning and Rose Jenvie had been discussed and decided upon.  Neither Hamlin nor Jenvie had interposed any objection to the marriage except on the point of time.  They asked, at first, that it be postponed for six months, as Jenvie insisted that he wanted to be certain that Rose had not been carried away by a mere impulse on seeing once more an old friend who had long been absent.  Hamlin agreed with him that the young people must be sure not to make any mistake.  Jack was impetuous, and Rose, while making no pronounced opposition, quietly said that no tests were necessary; that she and Jack had been separated for a long time and knew their own minds.  Sedgwick, when called in, refused to express an opinion, it being a matter too sacred to permit of any outside interference.

Finally a compromise was made, the time reduced one-half, and the date fixed for the first of September, it being then nearly the first of June.  Jack had only agreed to the postponement on the condition that Sedgwick should not desert him, but wait for the wedding.  He consented, saying carelessly that two or three months would not much matter to him, but the truth was that the delay urged by the old men strengthened his suspicion that all was not just right.  “Those old chaps are too sweet by half,” he said to himself.  “There is some game on hand to get the best of generous, simple-hearted, unsuspecting Jack, sure, and while I cannot fathom it I will keep watch.”

Then, there was the enchantment that Grace Meredith had woven around his life.  Every morning she greeted him with a smile, a welcome word and a hand clasp that set his blood tingling.  Her breath was in the air that he breathed, and when at night the hand-clasp and the smile were repeated, and the good-nights spoken, it all fell upon him like a benediction; and, going to his apartment, he would ask himself what his life would be were the smile, the word, and the hand-clasp to be his no more.

After a few days there came a change in Grace.  She was as cordial as ever, as gently considerate as ever, but she seemed to lose vivacity.  She was often lost in revery; a sadder smile seemed to give expression to her face; she did not laugh with the old ringing laugh; there seemed to come in her look when she suddenly encountered Sedgwick, something which was the opposite of a blush—­as opposite as the white rose is to the blush rose.

In those days the steady conscience of Sedgwick was undergoing many self-questionings.  Should he offer his love and be rejected, what then?  Should the impossible happen and he should be accepted, what then?  Should he carry the petted London girl to his home and friends in the Miami Valley, would there not be reproaches felt even if not spoken?  Thus he vexed himself day after day; night after night he tossed restlessly, and saw no way to break the entanglement that had entwined his life.  But he kept watch of Jack and the old men.