Evan really could not remember, and was beginning to wonder what he had been called there for.  The little lady had feverish eyes and fingers, and seemed to be burning to speak, but afraid.

‘I thought you had gone,’ she dropped her voice, ’without wishing me good-bye.’

‘I certainly should not do that, Miss Bonner.’

‘Formal!’ she exclaimed, half to herself.  ’Miss Bonner thanks you.  Do you think I wish you to stay?  No friend of yours would wish it.  You do not know the selfishness—­brutal!—­of these people of birth, as they call it.’

‘I have met with nothing but kindness here,’ said Evan.

‘Then go while you can feel that,’ she answered; ’for it cannot last another hour.  Here is the rose.’  She broke it from the stem and handed it to him.  ’You may wear that, and they are not so likely to call you an adventurer, and names of that sort.  I am hardly considered a lady by them.’

An adventurer!  The full meaning of the phrase struck Evan’s senses when he was alone.  Miss Bonner knew something of his condition, evidently.  Perhaps it was generally known, and perhaps it was thought that he had come to win Rose for his worldly advantage!  The idea was overwhelmingly new to him.  Up started self-love in arms.  He would renounce her.

It is no insignificant contest when love has to crush self-love utterly.  At moments it can be done.  Love has divine moments.  There are times also when Love draws part of his being from self-love, and can find no support without it.

But how could he renounce her, when she came forth to him,—­smiling, speaking freshly and lightly, and with the colour on her cheeks which showed that she had done her part?  How could he retract a step?

‘I have told Mama, Evan.  That’s over.  She heard it first from me.’

‘And she?’

’Dear Evan, if you are going to be sensitive, I’ll run away.  You that fear no danger, and are the bravest man I ever knew!  I think you are really trembling.  She will speak to Papa, and then—­and then, I suppose, they will both ask you whether you intend to give me up, or no.  I’m afraid you’ll do the former.’

‘Your mother—­Lady Jocelyn listened to you, Rose?  You told her all?’

‘Every bit.’

‘And what does she think of me?’

’Thinks you very handsome and astonishing, and me very idiotic and natural, and that there is a great deal of bother in the world, and that my noble relatives will lay the blame of it on her.  No, dear, not all that; but she talked very sensibly to me, and kindly.  You know she is called a philosopher:  nobody knows how deep-hearted she is, though.  My mother is true as steel.  I can’t separate the kindness from the sense, or I would tell you all she said.  When I say kindness, I don’t mean any “Oh, my child,” and tears, and kisses, and maundering, you know.  You mustn’t mind her thinking me a little fool.  You want to know what she thinks of you.  She said nothing to hurt you, Evan, and we have gained ground so far, and now we’ll go and face our enemies.  Uncle Mel expects to hear about your appointment, in a day or two, and——­’