Sybil Clynesworth made an unconditional surrender. It was true that, never having seen Bridget, she failed to understand Jimmy's facile satisfaction. She certainly still considered that he was ridiculously credulous. But while she would have been prepared to go to great lengths in order to prevent her brother from entering into what she could not help regarding as an unsuitable marriage, she saw that he had made up his mind.

The idea of living on unfriendly terms with him or his wife appeared preposterous, whereas a single false step at this critical period might easily make Bridget her enemy for life. So Sybil expressed her willingness to fall in with Jimmy's wishes; she would go to Blackheath in the motor-car early the following morning, inconvenient as the expedition would be; and she would bring Miss Rosser back to Golfney Place.

When the time came, however, Sybil set out with considerable nervousness, and her legs threatened to give way beneath her as she got out of the motor-car at the garden gate. The first sight of Bridget at least put an end to any surprise at Jimmy's infatuation, and when she came forward with both hands held out, kissing her visitor's cheek without the slightest hesitation, the way was half won to Sybil's accessible heart.

"You see, you are Jimmy's sister," said Bridget, with a charming air of entreaty, and in spite of her former equivocal opinion of Miss Rosser, Sybil could not refrain from answering—

"My dear, you must let me be yours."

Bridget, it appeared, was to return to lunch in Upper Grosvenor Street, and Jimmy, having already spoken to Miller, would escort her to No. 5, Golfney Place during the afternoon. It was while he was absent on this errand that Sybil sat down to write to Carrissima, sending the note to Grandison Square by hand. Since the reproachful letter which Sybil had received on the morning after the interview with Mark Driver, it seemed too soon to carry the epoch-marking news in person. So she explained that Jimmy was engaged to be married, and admitted her own more favourable impression of her prospective sister-in-law; she told Carrissima that Bridget had returned to Golfney Place, and added that the wedding was to take place at once.

"Well," demanded Colonel Faversham, who happened to be sitting with
Carrissima when Knight brought in the letter, "who's it from?"

"Sybil Clynesworth," she answered, with her eyes on the notepaper.

"What has she got to say?" exclaimed the colonel, fidgeting in his chair. "Why do you hesitate?" he added.

"Jimmy is going to be married," said Carrissima.

"H'm! Going to marry Bridget?"

"From what Sybil says, in a very few days," was the answer.

Colonel Faversham said nothing more at the moment. He had been doing his utmost to make a virtue of necessity. The grapes were sour. He ought to be thankful for a lucky escape! He wished Jimmy joy of his bargain! Nevertheless, he looked dejected as he sat in his easy-chair, and Carrissima could not help feeling sorry for him in one way, although she was profoundly thankful that he had been saved, in spite of himself, from a marriage which could scarcely have failed to turn out miserably.

"I suppose," said Carrissima, "I ought to send some sort of wedding present?"

"Send a wedding present! Of course! Why not?" answered Colonel Faversham, eager above all things to keep her for ever ignorant of his own engagement. "Better go to Donaldson's," he added.

"There's not much time to lose," suggested Carrissima. "I think I will go to-morrow morning."

"Upon my word," said her father, "I should rather like to get away for a bit."

"Oh, so should I!" was the answer.

"You wouldn't care to cut into the season!"

"I really shouldn't mind a scrap," said Carrissima.

She was inclined to feel that she did not much care about anything, and the news of Bridget's betrothal seemed to intensify her own disappointment.

"Would next week be too soon?" asked Colonel Faversham, and she promised to be ready by its end. He began at once to interest himself in the trip; they were to go abroad, and having fetched some old volumes of Baedeker from the smoking-room, he grew more cheerful than Carrissima had seen him for some days.

The next morning she spent an hour and a half at Donaldson's, inspecting various gold and silver articles, but at last selecting nothing more original than a large rose-bowl. On her way home, close to Golfney Place, she met Mark, and wondered whether she should stop if he showed no sign of doing so. She had never passed him by before, and in spite of a lingering sense of injustice, and even indignation, she had not the heart to let him go on without a word. She felt confident, however, that he would not have spoken if she had not taken the matter out of his hands.

"Have you heard the latest news?" asked Carrissima, as he raised his hat.

"About Jimmy and Bridget—yes, I was immensely glad to have a visit from him late last night."

"I have just been choosing a wedding present at Donaldson's," said
Carrissima.

"Oh yes," replied Mark, so distantly that she looked up suddenly to his face.

"How is your patient?" she inquired.

"Sir Wilford?" said Mark. "I have just come from Burnham Crescent.
Randolph Messeter operated. I hope we shall pull him through."

"Father and I are going abroad," Carrissima explained. "I dare say we shall be away quite a month."

"I hope you will have a good time," said Mark, and then raising his hat again, he walked on.

Carrissima bit her lower lip and kept her eyes on the pavement. She had done all she could, and there was an end of it! Perhaps the lapse of time would make him more reasonable, because it really was ridiculous to behave as if she were the original sinner. Not that she imagined that anything in the world would ever facilitate the happiness to which she had formerly tried to look forward.

The same evening brought a surprise in the form of a letter from Bridget. She wished to see Carrissima very particularly indeed. As it was not very convenient to come to Grandison Square, would Carrissima mind going to Golfney Place at half-past eleven the following morning?

Carrissima certainly could understand the "inconvenience" of a visit to Colonel Faversham's house, but she scarcely hesitated about going to see Bridget at her lodgings. Personally, she had not the least antipathy to the marriage, and, moreover, it seemed inevitable that she should see something of Jimmy's wife in the future. Consequently there was nothing to be gained by holding aloof in the present.

She was at once impressed by the subtle change in Miss Rosser's demeanour. It almost seemed as if she had increased in stature during the last few days; certainly she held her head higher in the air. There was an obvious accession of dignity, and she greeted her visitor rather condescendingly—quite charmingly, nevertheless.

"Thank you so very, very much for that lovely rose-bowl," she exclaimed. "So clever of you to know just what we wanted. Jimmy was here when it came yesterday evening, and he admired it immensely. Besides, it was our first wedding present!"

"Now I must add my congratulations," said Carrissima.

"Carrissima!" answered Bridget, "it's all beautiful. Do you like my ring?" she continued, holding out her left hand. "Jimmy wanted to see you, but I insisted upon having you all to myself. Do, please, sit down!"

Carrissima took a chair, and her thoughts flew back to that last dreadful visit when she had sat nearly in the same position, striving to lead Mark to believe that she had not seen him with Bridget in his arms.

"You must have been immensely surprised to get my letter," said Bridget. "I had a long discussion with Jimmy before I sent it. Of course it would not have been written but for what he told me, only I should love to try and make you happy too, though you may hate me for it. I don't want you to hate me," Bridget added, "because I could grow very fond of you if you would let me. Mean to blame one's circumstances, isn't it? Still, you know, if my father and mother had lived I have no shadow of doubt I should have gone along quite decently, and you would have thought I was a very estimable person. But I really want to talk about Mark!"

"What about him?" asked Carrissima, at once on her guard.

"The fact is," Bridget explained, "I ought to have drawn in and lived on my hundred pounds a year, or whatever it was, only I hadn't got it in me. I formed a different plan. I thought I would take London by storm—no less! I had been flattered and spoiled in Paris, and goodness knows what ridiculous ideas I came away with. Well, I was left alone with no one to speak to till I recognized Mark at the Old Masters', and dropped my purse so that he might pick it up and give me an excuse to claim acquaintance. They say that open confession is good for the soul! Oh dear, mine ought to be in such splendid condition."

"Why should you inflict the penance on yourself to-day?" suggested
Carrissima.

"I liked Mark Driver," said Bridget, "and I thought he liked me—in a rather different way. Until he went to Yorkshire, I believed he would ask me to marry him. I had tried to make him! After his return, that evening he took me to Belloni's, I tried my hardest and wondered why I failed till I saw you."

"I don't see what I can possibly have to do with it," murmured
Carrissima.

"Oh, you were very discreet—very clever! But it wasn't long before I saw you would give your heart for Mark——"

"You have not the least right to say that!" exclaimed Carrissima.

"Of course I haven't," Bridget admitted. "I am taking the most abominable liberty. Well, I was going to tell you that when Colonel Faversham asked me to marry him, I temporized until Mark's return from Paris; then I knew for certain there was nothing to be hoped for from him. I am giving myself away pretty liberally," said Bridget, "but this is what I want to make you understand. Though I deliberately devoted myself to captivate Mark, he never yielded—till just that once! Odd, that I who feel absolutely indifferent about him, should read his character so much more correctly than you who love him. Oh, please," entreated Bridget, "don't look so fierce, because if I had not been certain, there would have been no object in asking you to come here this morning."

"I cannot see one in—in any case!" said Carrissima.

"Oh, I hope there is," answered Bridget. "I know it sounds a wee bit inconsistent, because, of course, Mark was wrong, and at the time I felt immensely angry with him. But he wasn't a thousandth part so wrong as you imagined, and, Carrissima! there are very few men of his age whom you or I couldn't tempt if we gave our minds to it."

"I am not in the least likely to make the experiment," exclaimed
Carrissima.

"No, but, you see, I did! It's true nothing could have been further from my thoughts or my wishes on the afternoon you dropped the roses. But how was Mark to know that? And at other times I had done my very best to lead him on, and I failed only because of you! Imagine what it meant when he heard from Jimmy that the woman he loved, whom he had intended to ask to be his wife——"

"That is your own imagination!" cried Carrissima. "You cannot possibly have any ground for believing such a thing!"

"Anyhow, I have his own assurance; besides, he told Jimmy, if my word is not enough. You told Sybil that Mark had lied to you, and acted goodness knows how horridly concerning me, and the truth was he had merely lost his head for a single instant, and what was it after all? Carrissima, I have taken myself to pieces just to convince you I am sincere for once in a way! I see the possibility of danger ahead . . . danger that Mark is too much hurt to come forward again, and what a pity! Take my advice and don't let things rest. What does it matter who eats humble pie if you're going to dine together for the remainder of your lives? Do something at once! Write to him—send for him as I sent for you. I hoped I might make you believe he loves you, and that then you might live happily ever after!"