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“You went to ask him to come to my wedding; I know about it,” Hermione continued. “Of course it is the custom–people will think it odd if he does not come.” She paused, and then asked: “Does he consent?”

“No; he has not yet consented.”

“Ah, I thought so when I saw Mamma just now!”

“But he hasn’t quite refused–he has promised to think it over.”

“But he hated it–he hated the idea?”

Garnett hesitated. “It seemed to arouse painful associations.”

“Ah, it would–it would!” she exclaimed.

He was astonished at the passion of her accent; astonished still more at the tone with which she went on, laying her hand on his arm: “Mr. Garnett, he must not be asked–he has been asked too often to do things that he hated!”

Garnett looked at the girl with a shock of awe. What abysses of knowledge did her purity hide?

“But, my dear Miss Hermione–” he began.

“I know what you are going to say,” she interrupted him. “It is necessary that he should be present at the marriage or the du Trayas will break it off. They don’t want it very much, at any rate,” she added with a strange candour, “and they will not be sorry, perhaps–for of course Louis would have to obey them.”

“So I explained to your father,” Garnett assured her.

“Yes–yes; I knew you would put it to him. But that makes no difference, Mr. Garnett. He must not be forced to come unwillingly.”

“But if he sees the point–after all, no one can force him!”

“No; but if it is painful to him–if it reminds him too much . . . Oh, Mr. Garnett, I was not a child when he left us. . . . I was old enough to see . . . to see how it must hurt him even now to be reminded. Peace was all he asked for, and I want him to be left in peace!”

Garnett paused in deep embarrassment. “My dear child, there is no need to remind you that your own future–“

She had a gesture that recalled her mother. “My future must take care of itself; he must not be made to see us!” she said imperatively. And as Garnett remained silent she went on: “I have always hoped he did not hate me, but he would hate me now if he were forced to see me.”

“Not if he could see you at this moment!” he exclaimed.

She lifted her face with swimming eyes.

“Well, go to him, then; tell him what I have said to you!”

Garnett continued to stand before her, deeply struck. “It might be the best thing,” he reflected inwardly; but he did not give utterance to the thought. He merely put out his hand, holding Hermione’s in a long pressure.

“I will do whatever you wish,” he replied.

“You understand that I am in earnest?” she urged tenaciously.

“I am quite sure of it.”

“Then I want you to repeat to him what I have said–I want him to be left undisturbed. I don’t want him ever to hear of us again!”

The next day, at the appointed hour, Garnett resorted to the Luxembourg gardens, which Mr. Newell had named as a meeting-place in preference to his own lodgings. It was clear that he did not wish to admit the young man any further into his privacy than the occasion required, and the extreme shabbiness of his dress hinted that pride might be the cause of his reluctance.

Garnett found him feeding the sparrows, but he desisted at the young man’s approach, and said at once: “You will not thank me for bringing you all this distance.”

“If that means that you are going to send me away with a refusal, I have come to spare you the necessity,” Garnett answered.

Mr. Newell turned on him a glance of undisguised wonder, in which an undertone of disappointment might almost have been detected.

“Ah–they’ve got no use for me, after all?” be said ironically.

Garnett, in reply, related without comment his conversation with Hermione, and the message with which she had charged him. He remembered her words exactly and repeated them without modification, heedless of what they implied or revealed.