And Evelyn herself?  Neither her mother nor her suitor appreciated the uncommon circumstances that her education, her whole training in familiarity with pure and lofty ideals, had rendered her measurably insensible to the social considerations that seemed paramount to them, or that there could be any real obstacle to the bestowal of her person. where her heart was not engaged.  Yet she perfectly understood her situation, and, at times, deprived of her lifelong support, she felt powerless in it, and she suffered as only the pure and the noble can suffer.  Day after day she fought her battle alone, now and then, as the situation confronted her, assailed by a shudder of fear, as of one awakening in the night from a dream of peril, the clutch of an assassin, or the walking on an icy precipice.  If McDonald were only with her!  If she could only hear from Philip!  Perhaps he had lost hope and was submitting to the inevitable.

The opportunity which Lord Montague had long sought came one day unexpectedly, or perhaps it was contrived.  They were waiting in the drawing-room for an afternoon drive.  The carriage was delayed, and Mrs. Mavick excused herself to ascertain the cause of the delay.  Evelyn and her suitor were left alone.  She was standing by a window looking out, and he was standing by the fireplace watching the swing of the figure on the pendulum of the tall mantelpiece clock.  He was the first to break the silence.

“Your clock, Miss Mavick, is a little fast.”  No reply.  “Or else I am slow.”  Still no reply.  “They say, you know, that I am a little slow, over here.”  No reply.  “I am not, really, you know.  I know my mind.  And there was something, Miss Mavick, something particular, that I wanted to say to you.”

“Yes?” without turning round.  “The carriage will be here in a minute.”

“Never mind that,” and Lord Montague moved away from the fireplace and approached the girl; “take care of the minutes and the hours will take care of themselves, as the saying is.”  At this unexpected stroke of brilliancy Evelyn did turn round, and stood in an expectant attitude.  The moment had evidently come, and she would not meet it like a coward.

“We have been friends a long time; not so very long, but it seems to me the best part of my life,” he was looking down and speaking slowly, with the modest deference of a gentleman, “and you must have seen, that is, I wanted you to see, you know well, that is—­er—­what I was staying on here for.”

“Because you like America, I suppose,” said Evelyn, coolly.

“Because I like some things in America—­that is just the fact,” continued the little lord, with more confidence.  “And that is why I stayed.  You see I couldn’t go away and leave what was best in the world to me.”

There was an air of simplicity and sincerity about this that was unexpected, and could not but be respected by any woman.  But Evelyn waited, still immovable.