ld story,
got the idea that her reticence was a part of the same feeling whose
violent expression had sent him out into the wilderness. And with the
thought came the idea of his duty, implied in her father's dying trust:
'Give her time! . . . Let her choose!' For him the clock seemed to have
stopped for two whole years, and he was back at the time when the
guardianship of his boy life was beginning to yield to the larger and
more selfish guardianship of manhood.

Stephen, noticing that he did not come near her as closely as she felt he
might, and not realising his true reason--for when did love ever realise
the true reason of the bashfulness of love?--felt a chillness which in
turn reacted on her own manner.

And so these two ardent souls, who yearned for each other's love and the
full expression of it, seemed as if they might end after all in drifting
apart. Each thought that their secret was concealed. But both secrets
were already known to Mrs. Stonehouse, who knew nothing; and to Mr.
Stonehouse, who knew everything. Even Pearl had her own ideas, as was
once shown in a confidence when they were alone in Stephen's bedroom
after helping her to finish her dressing, just as Stephen herself had at
a similar age helped her Uncle Gilbert. After some coy leading up to the
subject of pretty dresses, the child putting her little mouth to the
other's ear whispered:

'May I be your bridesmaid, Stephen?' The woman was taken aback; but she
had to speak at once, for the child's eyes were on her:

'Of course you will, darling. But I--I may never be married.'

'You! You must! I know someone who will make you!' Stephen's heart
beat hard and rapidly. The child's talk, though sweet and dear, was more
than embarrassing. With, however, the desire to play with fire, which is
a part of the nature of women, she answered:

'You have some queer ideas, little one, in that pretty knowledge-box of
yours.'

'Oh! he never told me. But I know it all the same! And you know it too,
Stephen!' This was getting too close to be without danger; so she tried
to divert the thought from herself:

'My darling, you may guess about other people, though I don't say you
ought; but you must not guess about me!'

'All right!' then she held up her arms to be lifted on the other's knee
and said:

'I want to whisper to you!' Her voice and manner were so full of feeling
that somehow the other was moved. She bent her head, and Pearl taking