and of their prospects, and when they were
going to leave Woolgreaves; to all of
which questions Marian replied with perfect
self-possession and without giving her
querists any real information.

At last they set out homeward. Maud
and Gertrude started off at a rapid rate,
and were soon out of sight. Mr. Creswell
and Marian walked quickly on together,
talking on various subjects. Mr. Creswell
was the principal speaker, Marian merely
answering or commenting on what he said,
and, contrary to her usual custom, never
originating a subject. Her companion
looked at her curiously two or three times
during their walk; her eyes were downcast,
her forehead knit, and there was a
generally troubled expression in her face.
At length, when they had nearly reached
their destination, and had turned from the
high road into the Woolgreaves' grounds
through a private gate, he said:

"You are strangely silent to-day, missy.
Has anything happened to vex you?"

"To vex me? Nothing in the world.
And it had not even struck me that I was
particularly silent. It seems to me as
though we had been talking ever since we
left Helmingham."

"We? I, you mean. You have been
almost monosyllabic in your replies."

"Have I? That was scarcely polite
when you take the trouble to talk to me,
my kind friend. The fact is that I have
been in a kind of day-dream, I believe."

"About the future, Marian?" Mr.
Creswell said this so earnestly that the
girl looked up into his face. His eyes fell
before hers as she said, steadily:

"No; about the past. The sight of the
school pew, and of another person there in
papa's place, called up all sorts of
recollections, which I was revolving instead of
listening to you. Oh, no!" she added,
after a pause; "I love dreaming of the
past, because, though it has here and there
its dim hues and its one great and ineffaceable
shadow of papa's loss, it was, on the
whole, a happy time. But the future——"
and she stopped suddenly, and shuddered.

"You have no pleasant anticipations of
the future, Marian?" asked Mr. Creswell,
in a lower tone than that in which he had
hitherto spoken.

"Can you ask me—you who know me
and know how we are circumstanced? I
declare I——- There! I'm always apt to
forget myself when this subject is broached,
and I speak out without thinking how
uncalled for and ridiculous it is. Shall we
walk on?"

"Not for an instant. I wanted to say a
few words to you. I was talking to Dr.
Osborne this morning about Mrs. Ashurst."

"About mamma?"

"The doctor said—what cannot fail to
have struck you, Marian, who are so
devotedly attached to your mother and so
constantly in attendance on her—that a
great change has recently come over her,
and that she is much more feeble and more
helpless than she used to be. You have
noticed this?"

"I have indeed. Dr. Osborne is
perfectly right. Mamma is very much
changed."

"It is obviously necessary that she
should not feel the loss of any little
comfort to which she may have been
accustomed. It is most essential that her mind
should not be disturbed by any harassing
fears as to what might become of you,
after she was gone."

Marian was silent. Her face was deadly
pale, and her eyes were downcast.

"There is only one way of securing
our first object," continued Mr. Creswell,
"and that is by your continuing in this
house."

"That is impossible, Mr. Creswell. I
have already explained to you the reason."

"Not impossible in one way, Marian—- a
way, too, that will secure the other object
we have in view—- your mother's peace
of mind about you. Marian, will you
remain in this house as its mistress as my
wife?"

It had come at last, the golden chance!
She knew that he understood she had
accepted him, and that was all. Mr. Creswell
went on rapturously, telling her how his
love had grown as he had watched her
beauty, her charming intelligence, her
discretion, and her worth; how he had been
afraid she might think he was too old for
her; how she should prove the warmth of
his affection and the depth of his gratitude.
All this he said, but she heard none of it.
Her brain was running on her having at
last achieved the position and the wealth,
so long a source of bitter misery and despair
to her. The end was gained; now life
would indeed be something to her.

When they reached the house, Mr. Creswell
wanted to go with her at once to Mrs.
Ashurst's room; but Marian begged to be
alone for a few moments, and parted with
him at the door. As she passed through