’Jane—­dear, good Jane—­you remember what I said to you in the garden at Danbury—­that I had forgotten her.  I thought it was true.  But you know what a terrible thing has befallen her.  I should be less than a man if I could say that she is nothing to me.’

‘Have you spoken to her?’

’I have asked her to be my wife.  Jane, if I had come to you yesterday, before going to her, and had told you what I meant to do, and explained all I felt, how the love of years ago had grown in me again, wouldn’t you have given me a friendly hand?’

’Just like I do now.  Do you think I have forgotten one night when she stood by me and saved me from cruel treatment, and then nursed me when I fell ill?’

Neither of them had the habit of making long speeches.  They understood each other—­very nearly; sufficiently, at all events, to make the bond of sympathy between them stronger than ever.  Jane was misled a little, for she thought that here was the explanation of Sidney’s withdrawing his word to her grandfather; doubtless he heard of the calamity when it happened.  But on a more essential point she fell into no misconception.  Did Sidney desire that she should?

He held her hand until she gently drew it away.

‘You will go up and tell grandfather,’ she said, gravely; then added, before he could speak, ’But I’ll just see him first for a minute.  He hasn’t been out of his room this morning yet.  Please wait here.’

She left him, and Sidney fell back on his chair, woebegone, distracted.

Michael, brooding sorrowfully, at first paid no heed to Jane when she entered his room.  It was not long since he had risen, and his simple breakfast, scarcely touched, was still on the table.

‘Grandfather, Mr. Kirkwood is here, and wishes to speak to you.’

He collected himself, and, regarding her, became aware that she was strongly moved.

‘Wishes to see me, Jane?  Then I suppose he came to see you first?’

Prepared now for anything unexpected, feeling that the links between himself and these young people were artificial, and that he could but watch, as if from a distance, the course of their lives, his first supposition was, that Sidney had again altered his mind.  He spoke coldly, and had little inclination for the interview.

‘Yes,’ Jane replied, ’he came to see me, but only to tell me that he is going to be married.’

His wrinkled face slowly gathered an expression of surprise.

’He will tell you who it is; he will explain.  But I wanted to speak to you first.  Grandfather, I was afraid yea might say something about me.  Will you—­will you forget my foolishness?  Will you think of me as you did before?  When he has spoken to you, you will understand why I am content to put everything out of my mind, everything you and I talked of.  But I couldn’t bear for him to know how I have disappointed you.  Will you let me be all I was to you before?  Will you trust me again, grandfather?  You haven’t spoken to him yet about me, have you?’