The idea, of testing the matter out with Miss Marbury, had presented itself so suddenly, that Parkington had—he must confess it to himself—forgotten for the moment, his engagement to meet Miss Stirling.  
In truth, it did not recur to him until they had returned from the water-front, after his proposal was rejected.
 
Instantly, he retraced his steps, hoping against hope that she was still waiting, or, better still, that she had not kept the rendezvous.
 
The first contingency failed—the rose-walk was deserted; if Miss Stirling had been there, she was gone, and he would have to pay the penalty. The other contingency was what he prayed for, most fervently. When one is about to ask a woman to be his wife, it is unfortunate if he has to start the interview explaining away his short-comings.
 
He strolled through the other walks—the peony, the mock-orange, and the golden-rose, but without success. She was not in any of them. He turned back to the house, a little discouraged. Now, that he had decided to go home, he had also decided that he wanted Miss Stirling to go back with him—and this was not a propitious beginning.
 
[Pg 290]
 
He met Brandon coming down the steps.
 
"What success?" he said.
 
"You mean, with Miss Stirling?" Parkington asked.
 
The other nodded.
 
"Poor," was the answer. "I forgot the rendezvous."
 
"Have you made your peace?"
 
"I have not found her."
 
"You are a careless fellow, De Lysle—I saw you go off with Miss Marbury. Why did you do it?"
 
"To determine whether I wanted to remain in Maryland."
 
"And you determined?"
 
"Yes!" with a faint laugh. "I determined to go back."
 
Brandon slipped an arm through his, and led him down to the esplanade.
 
"You proposed to Miss Marbury, I assume?" he said.
 
"I did."
 
"And she refused you!"
 
"She did."
 
"And you told her, in your infatuated ignorance, that you are not Parkington—that you are an impostor?"
 
"I did."
 
Brandon smiled, mockingly.
 
"She will not repeat it," Parkington averred.
 
"Think you so?" said Brandon. "Well, I have[Pg 291] not the trust in womankind which you seem to have suddenly acquired. The sooner our ship sails, now, the better."
 
"Wherefore?"
 
"For several wherefores—where was your head, man, that you should have been guilty of this folly? She will not keep your secret—the woman is not born who could keep a secret so interesting. She will babble. And, then, trouble. Think you, they will believe your present story? Having once confessed to living a lie, you are a liar always—they will suspect whatever you tell. You might prove you are a De Lysle by the best of legal evidence, and they would doubt you, still. And it will not stop with you. They will question my identity as well: I will not be Sir Charles Brandon because you sponsored me. I am a suspicious character. I must account for myself. And that may lead to the Jolly Roger and the scaffold. For this knowledge and suspicion will be not among the people, in general, but with the greatest power in the Province: the Governor himself. And, though he is an easygoing, kindly gentleman, he can, I doubt not, be stern as death, if the occasion requires. You have violated his hospitality and his vouchment; I have accepted his hospitality, and must now prove my right to it or be kicked out—I must hang like a dog, if discovered."
 
"All of which," said Parkington, "is predicated upon Miss Marbury telling—in addition, you will[Pg 292] have to be identified. And the identification will be due solely to the fact that you and Long-Sword are the same individual—a condition for which you alone are responsible. And I might further remind you, that I had nothing to do with your coming to Annapolis—you rather complicated my affairs by appearing, as I told you at the time."
 
"Well, do not let us quarrel," said Brandon.
 
"Lord! man, I have no idea of quarreling!" laughed Parkington.—"It may have been a serious indiscretion to tell Miss Marbury, doubtless it was—but the fat is in the fire, now, and we must make the best of it. I may have weakened the authority of my identification of you, but nothing more. The Governor may be suspicious, but he cannot possibly connect you with Long-Sword. Marbury and Jamison are the only ones who might do it, and they are not likely to encounter you."
 
"We will forget it," said Brandon—"borrowing trouble only makes it the bigger when it comes. Nevertheless, I wish there were a ship sailing for home, to-morrow. Well, a man can die but once, thank God!—Do you intend to see Miss Stirling to-night?"
 
"Yes—I am searching for her, now."
 
"And you will tell her the truth?"
 
"Only part of it—enough to test her. One woman is like another, according to your estimate, so, she shall know who I am, but not what I am—that [Pg 293]I am a son of the Earl of Doncaster, but not that I am in disgrace and disowned."
 
"You will stand a better chance for trust with Miss Stirling. She is an Englishwoman—she would likely keep an Earl's son's secret."
 
"Why should I not wait until your ship has sailed, before I tell her—then, if she babbles, it will not affect you?"
 
"No," said Brandon; "since you have told it to Miss Marbury you must tell it to the other. I supposed you would test Miss Stirling first—see what your chances were—work up to it, gradually. Then, if all seemed propitious, confess just before we sailed. If she accepted you, all's well; if she refused you, we should be gone ere she could babble. I never dreamed that you would confide in Miss Marbury.—It is a beautiful scene, Parkington, a beautiful scene!" he exclaimed, suddenly, as a step sounded behind them. "Ah, Captain Herford!"
 
"I am looking for Miss Stirling," the Captain explained. "The Governor wants her."
 
"I have not seen her," Brandon replied.
 
"Nor I, since supper," said Parkington.
 
Half an hour later, when Miss Stirling came downstairs from the Governor's apartments, it was to find Sir Edward Parkington sitting on the lowest step. He arose and bowed.
 
"I have been waiting," he said.
 
"For what?" she asked.
 
[Pg 294]
 
"For you."
 
"You give yourself unnecessary trouble, sir."
 
"I give myself a pleasure."
 
She stepped by him, and proceeded on her way.
 
He followed, through the drawing-room, and the room beyond, and out to the rear piazza. Here, he sprang forward, and offered her his arm.
 
"I thank you," she scorned; "I do not need your assistance."
 
At the second step, the high heel of her slipper caught, she stumbled, and would have fallen, had not Parkington interposed.
 
He held her a moment, then released her.
 
"I thank you!" she said stiffly, and went slowly down.
 
"May I go along?" he asked, all the while, keeping step with her.
 
She did not answer.
 
"Miss Stirling, I addressed you," he said.
 
Still no answer.
 
"Thank you!" he replied. "You are very kind."
 
She stopped and looked him over, disdainfully.
 
"You have misinterpreted, sir," she said. "I have no intention to be kind—silence, in, this instance, does not give consent."
 
"What have I done?" he asked.
 
She shrugged her shoulders.
 
"I went to the rose-walk—I waited—you did not come."
 
[Pg 295]
 
"When?" she inquired.
 
"At the time appointed—before it, indeed."
 
"And I was not there?"
 
"I could not find you."
 
"You waited for me?"
 
"At least half an hour."
 
"And I did not come?"
 
"Alas! no."
 
She laughed derisively. "Why do you tell me such nonsense?"
 
"Nonsense!" he said. "Nonsense!"
 
"Lies would be the more fitting term."
 
"I do not understand."
 
"No—there is your trouble; you do not know if I kept the rendezvous, so you play it as if you did!"
 
"As if I did!" he repeated.
 
She laughed again. "I suppose you will be averring that you do not understand me."
 
He bowed. "Pray explain," he said.
 
"It is for you to explain. I kept the rendezvous; you did not."
 
He tried to look his surprise. "You kept the rendezvous?"
 
"Yes, I kept the rendezvous; while you, sir, went strolling to the Bay with Miss Marbury—nor ever thought to cast even one look toward the rose-walk."
 
There could be no profit in prevaricating further.[Pg 296] He was caught, and the quickest way out was to admit it.
 
"I did," he said humbly. "I did."
 
"Why did you not acknowledge it, at first?" she questioned.
 
"I thought, perhaps, you also had forgotten."
 
She looked at him, searchingly.
 
"Did you really forget?" she asked.
 
"As God is my witness!—until we were returning, I never thought of it. Then, as soon as I ............