Out on the terrace the night was very still. From a steel-blue skythe stars looked down as calmly as they had looked on the night ofthe ball, when George had waited by the shrubbery listening to thewailing of the music and thinking long thoughts. From the darkmeadows by the brook came the cry of a corncrake, its harsh notesoftened by distance.

　　"What shall we do?" said Maud. She was sitting on the stone seatwhere Reggie Byng had sat and meditated on his love for AliceFaraday and his unfortunate habit of slicing his approach-shots. ToGeorge, as he stood beside her, she was a white blur in thedarkness. He could not see her face.

　　"I don't know!" he said frankly.

　　Nor did he. Like Lady Caroline and Lord Belpher and Keggs, thebutler, he had been completely overwhelmed by Lord Marshmoreton'sdramatic announcement. The situation had come upon him unheraldedby any warning, and had found him unequal to it.

　　A choking sound suddenly proceeded from the whiteness that wasMaud. In the stillness it sounded like some loud noise. It jarredon George's disturbed nerves.

　　"Please!""I c-can't help it!""There's nothing to cry about, really! If we think long enough, weshall find some way out all right. Please don't cry.""I'm not crying!" The choking sound became an unmistakable ripple ofmirth. "It's so absurd! Poor father getting up like that in frontof everyone! Did you see Aunt Caroline's face?""It haunts me still," said George. "I shall never forget it. Yourbrother didn't seem any too pleased, either."Maud stopped laughing.

　　"It's an awful position," she said soberly. "The announcement willbe in the Morning Post the day after tomorrow. And then the lettersof congratulation will begin to pour in. And after that thepresents. And I simply can't see how we can convince them all thatthere has been a mistake." Another aspect of the matter struck her.

　　"It's so hard on you, too.""Don't think about me," urged George. "Heaven knows I'd give thewhole world if we could just let the thing go on, but there's nouse discussing impossibilities." He lowered his voice. "There's nouse, either, in my pretending that I'm not going to have a prettybad time. But we won't discuss that. It was my own fault. I camebutting in on your life of my own free will, and, whatever happens,it's been worth it to have known you and tried to be of service toyou.""You're the best friend I've ever had.""I'm glad you think that.""The best and kindest friend any girl ever had. I wish . . ."She broke off. "Oh, well. . ."There was a silence. In the castle somebody had begun to play thepiano. Then a man's voice began to sing.

　　"That's Edwin Plummer," said Maud. "How badly he sings."George laughed. Somehow the intrusion of Plummer had removed thetension. Plummer, whether designedly and as a sombre commentary onthe situation or because he was the sort of man who does sing thatparticular song, was chanting Tosti's "Good-bye". He was giving toits never very cheery notes a wailing melancholy all his own. A dogin the stables began to howl in sympathy, and with the sound came acurious soothing of George's nerves. He might feel broken-heartedlater, but for the moment, with this double accompaniment, it wasimpossible for a man with humour in his soul to dwell on the deeperemotions. Plummer and his canine duettist had brought him toearth. He felt calm and practical.

　　"We'd better talk the whole thing over quietly," he said. "There'scertain to be some solution. At the worst you can always go to LordMarshmoreton and tell him that he spoke without a sufficient graspof his subject.""I could," said Maud, "but, just at present, I feel as if I'drather do anything else in the world. You don't realize what itmust have cost father to defy Aunt Caroline openly like that. Eversince I was old enough to notice anything, I've seen how shedominated him. It was Aunt Caroline who really caused all thistrouble. If it had only been father, I could have coaxed him to letme marry anyone I pleased. I wish, if you possibly can, you wouldthink of some other solution.""I haven't had an opportunity of telling you," said George, "that Icalled at Belgrave Square, as you asked me to do. I went theredirectly I had seen Reggie Byng safely married.""Did you see him married?""I was best man.""Dear old Reggie! I hope he will be happy.""He will. Don't worry about that. Well, as I was saying, I calledat Belgrave Square, and found the house shut up. I couldn't get anyanswer to the bell, though I kept my thumb on it for minutes at atime. I think they must have gone abroad again.""No, it wasn't that. I had a letter from Geoffrey this morning. Hisuncle died of apoplexy, while they were in Manchester on a businesstrip." She paused. "He left Geoffrey all his money," she went on.

　　"Every penny."The silence seemed to stretch out interminably. The music from thecastle had ceased. The quiet of the summer night was unbroken. ToGeorge the stillness had a touch of the sinister. It was theghastly silence of the end of the world. With a shock he realizedthat even now he had been permitting himself to hope, futile as herecognized the hope to be. Maud had told him she loved another man.

　　That should have been final. And yet somehow his indomitablesub-conscious self had refused to accept it as final. But this newsended everything. The only obstacle that had held Maud and this manapart was removed. There was nothing to prevent them marrying.

　　George was conscious of a vast depression. The last strand of therope had parted, and he was drifting alone out into the ocean ofdesolation.

　　"Oh!" he said, and was surprised that his voice sounded very muchthe same as usual. Speech was so difficult that it seemed strangethat it should show no signs of effort. "That alters everything,doesn't it.""He said in his letter that he wanted me to meet him in Londonand--talk things over, I suppose.""There's nothing now to prevent your going. I mean, now that yourfather has made this announcement, you are free to go where youplease.""Yes, I suppose I am."There was another silence.

　　"Everything's so difficult," said Maud.

　　"In what way?""Oh, I don't know.""If you are thinking of me," said George, "please don't. I knowexactly what you mean. You are hating the thought of hurting myfeelings. I wish you would look on me as having no feelings. All Iwant is to see you happy. As I said just now, it's enough for me toknow that I've helped you. Do be reasonable about it. The fa............