MR. CARTERET'S ADVENTURE WITH A LOCKET 



543 



wondering why he was so bent upon clear- 

 ing the matter up. At most it could only 

 put him where he was before the day of 

 the accident. It could not make that drive 

 home real or change in her utterances 

 what she had said that afternoon. She 

 would acquit him of prying into her af- 

 fairs, but beyond that there was nothing 

 to hope. Everything that he had recently 

 learned strengthened his conviction that 

 she was going to marry Wynford. It was 

 a certainty. Nevertheless, from Crumpe- 

 low Hill he rode toward the Abbey. 



It was nearly four o'clock when Miss 

 Rivers came in. He rose and bowed with 

 a playful, exaggerated ceremony. "I have 

 come," he began, in a studiedly light key, 

 "because I have solved the mystery." 



'T am glad you have come," she said. 



"It is simple," he went on. "Another 

 man picked you up, and put you where I 

 found you. Your breathing must havei 

 been bad, and he loosened your clothes. 

 Probably the locket had flown open and 

 he shut it. Then he went after a trap. 

 Why he did not come back, I don't 

 know." 



"But I do," said Miss Rivers. 



He looked at her warily, suspecting a 

 trap for the man's name. He preferred 

 not to mention that. 



"I know," she went on, "because he 

 has told me. He did come back part 

 way — till he saw that you were with 

 me." 



Mr. Carteret looked at her in surprise. 



"More than that," she went on, "he 

 did close the locket, and, after thinking 

 about it, he decided that it was best to tell 

 me. If he had only done so before!" 



"I see," said Mr. Carteret. *Hc did 

 not see at all, but it w^as a matter about 

 which he felt that he could not ask ques- 

 tions. 



"You know^" she said, after a pause, 

 "that the man was Captain Wynford." 



"Yes," he answered shortly. His tone 

 changed. "Wynford is a good man — a 

 good man," he said again. "I can con- 

 gratulate you both honestly." He paused. 

 "Well, I must go," he went on. "I 'm 

 glad things are right again all round. 

 Good-by." He crossed to the door, and 

 she stood watching him. She had grown 

 very pale. 



"Carty," she said suddenly, in a dry 

 voice, "I 'm not acting well." 



He looked back perplexed, but in a mo- 

 ment he understood. She evidently felt 

 that she ought to tell him outright that 

 she was going to marry Wynford. 



"In treating you as I did," she finished, 

 "in judging you — " 



"You were hasty," he said, "but I can 

 understand." 



She shook her head. "You can't under- 

 stand if you think that there was only a 

 flower in the locket." 



"Perhaps I have guessed already that 

 there was a picture," he said — "a picture 

 that was not for my eyes." 



She looked at him gravely. "No," she 

 said, "3^ou have n't guessed. I don't think 

 you 've guessed ; and when I think how I 

 misjudged you, how harsh I was, I want 

 you to see it. It is almost your right to see 

 it." Her hand went to her throat, but 

 he shook his head, 

 i "1/t pleases me," he said, "to be made a 

 confidant, hut I take the will for the 

 deed. If there is anything more you 

 mi^ht wish that I would say, imagine that 

 I have said it — congratulations, good 

 wishes, and that sort of thing; you under- 

 stand." His hand was on the door, but 

 again she called him back. She paused, 

 with her hand on the piano, and struggled 

 for her words. "Carty," she said, "once 

 I told you that it was all off, that I never 

 could marry you — that I should never 

 marry any one. You 're glad now, are n't 

 you? You see it is best?" 



"Would it make you happier if I said 

 so ?" he replied. 



"I want to know the truth," she said. 



"I am afraid the truth would only hurt 

 you," he answered. 



"I want the truth," she said again. 



"It is soon told," he said; "there is 

 nothing new to tell." 



"What do you mean?" she w^hispered. 



"Is n't it clear?" he answ^ered. "Do 

 you want to bring up the past?" 



"You love me?" she asked. He could 

 hardly hear, her voice trembled so. 



He made no answer, but bowed his 

 head. 



When she saw, she turned, and, throw- 

 ing her arms along the piano, hid her face, 

 and in a moment he heard her crying 

 softly. 



He paused uncertainly, then he w^ent to 

 her. "Sally," he said. 



She lifted her head. She was crying 



