d was already imagining
her face with the appeal in it which such an occasion would call forth,
when there came a low knock at the door, and Miss Althorpe re-entered.

She had just said good-night to her lover, and her face recalled to me a
time when my own cheek was round and my eye was bright and--Well! what
is the use of dwelling on matters so long buried in oblivion! A
maiden-woman, as independent as myself, need not envy any girl the
doubtful blessing of a husband. I chose to be independent, and I am, and
what more is there to be said about it? Pardon the digression.

"Is Miss Oliver any better?" asked Miss Althorpe; "and have you
found----"

I put up my finger in warning. Of all things, it was most necessary that
the sick woman should not know my real reason for being there.

"She is asleep," I answered quietly, "and I _think_ I have found out
what is the matter with her."

Miss Althorpe seemed to understand. She cast a look of solicitude
towards the bed and then turned towards me.

"I cannot rest," said she, "and will sit with you for a little while, if
you don't mind."

I felt the implied compliment keenly.

"You can do me no greater favor," I returned.

She drew up an easy-chair. "That is for you," she smiled, and sat down
in a little low rocker at my side.

But she did not talk. Her thoughts seemed to have recurred to some very
near and sweet memory, for she smiled softly to herself and looked so
deeply happy that I could not resist saying:

"These are delightful days for you, Miss Althorpe."

She sighed softly--how much a sigh can reveal!--and looked up at me
brightly. I think she was glad I spoke. Even such reserved natures as
hers have their moments of weakness, and she had no mother or sister to
appeal to.

"Yes," she replied, "I am very happy; happier than most girls are, I
think, just before marriage. It is such a revelation to me--this
devotion and admiration from one I love. I have had so little of it in
my life. My father----"

She stopped; I knew why she stopped. I gave her a look of encouragement.

"People have always been anxious for my happiness, and have warned me
against matrimony since I was old enough to know the difference between
poverty and wealth. Before I was out of short dresses I was warned
against fortune-seekers. It was not good advice; it has stood in the way
of my happiness all my life, made me distrustful and unnaturally
reserved. But now--ah, Miss Butterworth, M