Pamela darling?"

"Yes," said Pamela, forgetting to rebuke him.

"After to-day I will not call you darling till I have the right before all the world. After to-day. I meant to have held my tongue, but you bewildered me, Pamela. You are not angry with me?"

"No," came almost in a whisper.

"Lift up your eyes to me and say it. That is right. How beautiful your eyes are, Pamela! Say 'Tony,' now."

"Tony!"

"Dear Tony."

"Dear Tony!"

"How sweetly you say it! It is like silver in your voice. But, come now, we will go home. I have to be wise, you know. Ah, Pamela, Pamela! why did you bring me to the Wishing Well?"

"You wanted to go."

"Yes, I know; but it was an accident that we were alone, or it was Fate—yes, it was surely Fate that sent Miss Spencer's carriage for your sister at the last moment, so that we had to take our walk without her. Shall we go now, and talk no more about love to-day?"

Pamela hesitated, and then said:

"Poor Sylvia! She has spent this lovely afternoon shut up with an old lady and a dog."

"She wouldn't mind the dog, I fancy, Pam."

"Nor the old lady. Sylvia is fond of Miss Spencer, strange as it may seem."

"Why is it strange, Pam? I can't help using the sweet little name."

He had taken her hand by this time, and they were walking like children down the aisle of golden trees.

"You haven't seen Miss Spencer. She is a little mad and a little grotesque to most people. But she is devoted to Sylvia, and Sylvia to her. She is not mad to Sylvia."

"How does it come that I haven't seen Miss Spencer?"

"She has been abroad. You'll see her one of these days, I expect. She was crossed in love in her youth, and it seems to have made her strange in ways. She's immensely wealthy, and gives a good deal in charity, but mostly among single women. She seems to think that those who have husbands and children don't need pity."

"She's quite safe for your sister to be with?"

"Oh, quite. She has all her senses, only that she's a trifle peculiar. She's a splendid business woman, everyone says."

"It is a curious friendship. I should never have supposed it of Miss Sylvia."

"No. One funny thing is that Miss Spencer's full of sentiment—wait till you hear her sing 'She wore a Wreath of Roses'—whereas Sylvia's quite without sentiment, and laughs at everything sentimental."

"I feel sorry for the poor old thing," said Sir Anthony, with a half-ashamed laugh, "because she was crossed in love. I shouldn't like to be crossed in love myself, Pamela."

"It was cruel," said Pamela simply. "The man made her love him, and then went away and never came back. She was poor then. She inherited Dovercourt quite unexpectedly."

"What a sweep he must have been!"