"Of course I do."

"Then I will." And Sybil threw her arms round Tom's neck, and, drawing his face down, pressed her lips to his.

It was not a maidenly action, and for a second it gave Tom a slight stab of disappointment. But he soon forgot it as Sybil murmured:

Tom, I have loved you for ever so long. I loved you as quite a little girl, when you pulled me out of the river. I loved you when you were here last, though you scarcely took any notice of me; and when I saw you at the ball at Bamford Abbey, I could scarcely resist telling you how much I loved you. When you were dancing with me, and I felt your strong arm supporting me, I could scarcely breathe for excitement; and when the dance was over, and we sat together, I was afraid you would notice how agitated I was." And again she drew Tom's face to hers and kissed him.

They sat together until the bell sounded for afternoon tea.

"I suppose I ought to be going now?" suggested Tom.

Why not stop and dine? You can send over for your things. Remember you belong to me now."

And the rest was lost in an embrace.

Tom wrote a note to the butler at Marston Towers, telling him to send his evening clothes. On any other occasion he would have written to Vita; and a shudder ran through him as he thought of having to tell her of that afternoon's performance.

Shy as he felt at that prospect, there was no opportunity for shyness at The Beacon.

As they entered the drawing-room where Lady Raymond and Sir Gilbert Caldecott were seated, Sybil ran forward and whispered something in her mother's ear. The Countess immediately rose from her seat, and, coming up to Tom, seized both his hands in hers. and kissed him. "I am very pleased," she said; and

Tom knew that all the trouble of announcement was taken off his hands.

Then Sir Gilbert came up and slapped him on the back, and congratulated him in a boisterous way. "Be gad, sir, you are the luckiest young fellow I know. You have won the best and prettiest girl in England, or the world, for the matter of that. Fancy my little chestnut filly being engaged to be married." And the thought of this caused him so much amusement that he laughed long and loudly.

Throughout dinner that night Sir Gilbert kept up a running fire of jokes. The presence of the servants made no difference to him; in fact, he seemed rather to like a gallery. They discussed Tom's affairs in the most open way: where the wedding was to take place and when, who were to be bridesmaids and what they were to wear, where they were to spend the honeymoon, and where they were to live afterwards. Each of these subjects afforded the baronet an opportunity of ventilating his wit, and Tom never before so longed to kick a man as he did him.

A great feeling of disappointment came over him. The fruit which he had desired so much was already turning to ashes in his mouth.

Tom was one of those rare men-and becoming rarer every day-who believed in girls being modest and maidenly. His sensibilities had been rather shocked at the self-possessed way Sybil had accepted his proposal in the afternoon. He was disgusted at the open way the subject was discussed at dinner, and he was pained that Sybil should take part in the discussion and laugh at Sir Gilbert's jokes.

But after dinner she laid herself out for Tom entirely, and, when it was time for him to go, he was feverishly in love.

Sybil said good-night to him in her sanctum, which was near the entrance, and then Tom got upon the dog-cart and drove off.

When he had gone about a hundred yards, it

suddenly occurred to him that his bag had not been put in the trap. He asked the man, and found that such was the case. Handing him the reins, Tom jumped down and ran back, hoping to attract somebody's notice before the house was locked up.

There was a faint streak of light showing from the window of Sybil's sanctum through a gap in the curtain. Tom peered in, but could see very indistinctly, as the room was dimly lighted with one shaded candle only.

He fancied he could see his fiancée standing in front of Sir Gilbert, who had his hands resting on her bare shoulders.

Tom drew back in horror, and, before he had time to look again, the light was extinguished.

"It must have been fancy. I never would believe it of her," he said, and, remounting the dog-cart, he drove rapidly away, without thinking any further of his bag.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE

IT was close upon midnight when Tom returned to Marston Towers. He had driven home in a light covert coat over his evening dress, and, as the night was bitterly cold, he was almost frozen when he arrived.

Tom's absence had given rise to much conjecture, though little had been said on the subject. Mr. Marston had inquired for him at dinner, and when he heard that Tom's evening clothes had been sent to The Beacon, he relapsed into a silence which he did not again break. He did not come into the

drawing-room after dinner; but retired to his own. room, which, being his usual custom, gave rise to no

comment.

Mrs. Forbes, Vita, and Rupert were in the hall as the dog-cart drove up to the door. They had almost given Tom up, and were about to retire for the night. Vita was looking pale and careworn; Rupert was sad from sympathy; and Mrs. Forbes also looked anxious and worried.

Tom rushed to the fire directly he entered and began rubbing his hands. "By Jove! it is cold outside," he said, still rubbing his hands in a demonstrative way, as if he wished to turn the conversation on the weather.

"What sort of evening have you had?" asked Rupert.

Tom did not answer. He walked up to a table whereon was standing a tray of refreshments, and mixed himself a stiff glass of whisky and soda water.

"What's wrong with you, Tom?" asked Rupert. "You look as if you had seen a ghost."

Tom swallowed his drink at a draught, then turning to the others, he said in a defiant way:

"I am engaged to marry Sybil Challenger."

Vita gave a sob which sounded like the cry of one who had been stabbed to the heart, and she turned as white as the alabaster statue of Psyche behind her.

There was an awkward silence for some seconds; then Rupert stepped forward and held out his hand to Tom.

"I wish you every happiness in life, old son. Lady Sybil has drawn a trump.'

"And I, also, hope that a very happy future lies before you, Tom," said Mrs. Forbes.

Tom turned to Vita and asked:

congratulations for me, Vita?"

"Have you no

"No," she laconically replied, and she walked up

stairs like a spectre.

"Poor child," ejaculated Mrs. Forbes, as soon as Vita was out of hearing; and she followed her.

"This was rather sudden, was it not, Tom?" Rupert said as soon as they were alone.

"I don't care a d-n whether it was sudden or not; it was bound to be-it was fate," replied Tom; and he mixed himself another whisky and soda.

"Tell us all about it," said Rupert, noticing, but not heeding, Tom's irritable manner.

"My dear fellow, there is nothing to tell. I am in love with the girl, that's all, and if I don't marry her, I shall go mad."

"Vita seems awfully put out about it."

"Vita is a duffer," said Tom as he drank off his grog, and he threw the empty tumbler into the grate with a crash, breaking it into a thousand pieces.

The future Duke of Hampshire could have hugged Tom to his heart; "a fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind," and he knew that the so-called pleasures of love were the severest forms of torture. For days he had been undergoing misery, and he saw no prospect of its ending. During all that time he had been waiting his opportunity to lay his hand, his heart, and the prospect of a duchess's coronet at Vita's feet; but she had not given him a chance. Nay, more; she had led him to understand that there was not the ghost of a chance of her accepting them if he offered them.

He saw what Tom did not; that she had given her heart and its affections to Tom, and had none to bestow on any one else. Vita herself might not yet have realised that her love for him was anything more than that of a sister for a brother; but Rupert knew that no sister ever suffered such pangs jealousy as Vita had passed through the last few days.

"How about bed?" said Rupert at last.

of

'Yes, it is about time," replied Tom. "Don't you wait for me, I shall follow you shortly," and he shook hands with Rupert, who retired.