come into
Jane's eyes slowly as she looked out to the familiar scene and heard
the well-known voices, and thought that to-morrow she must leave Cross
Hall and Scotland and Francis for ever.

Mr. Phillips helped her well to keep up conversation at dinner and
during the evening, but after the children had gone to bed and Mrs.
Phillips had retired, he thought the cousins might wish to have their
quiet talk by themselves, and wished them good-night.

"You have not been in the library yet Jane," said Francis; "shall we
adjourn there? I have a little, a very little business to talk over
with you, and I am going to bid you our real farewell tonight, for I am
not going to see you on board ship. I dare not."

Jane followed him to the library. She had not been in it since they had
searched through her uncle's papers, and had read the letters of Madame
de Vericourt together. Francis took from the drawer, which still
contained those yellow letters, a paper on which was some writing and
figures, and a parcel of bank-notes.

"You recollect that you asked me to store the furniture that you left
in your room till you saw fit to claim it. After Elsie decided on
staying at Mrs. Phillips's, I sent to Peggy's for what you had there,
as I think I wrote to you, and Susan saw that everything was placed
just as it used to be. Was it so?"

"Yes; exactly so."

"I do not want to part with any of it, but I got a valuation taken of
it the other day, which you see here, and I give you the market price
for all the things. There is no favour in such a commercial transaction
as that surely, so here is a little addition to your slender capital.
You will find the money all right, I think, odd shillings and all."

"All right," said Jane, compelling herself to count the notes according
to her old methodical way.

"And you like my cottages, Jane, and you hope great things from the
allotments, and you were pleased with my two speeches in parliament?
Oh! Jane, if I am ever worth anything I will owe it to you, and now you
are going to put half the globe between us, I feel as if I had lost
more than half of myself."

Jane could scarcely trust herself to speak.

"It is better so, Francis."

"If you miss me as I know I will miss you, write and tell me so. You
KNOW, Jane, I love you," said Francis.

"I feared it."

"Why should you fear it? Is it not the most natural, the most
reasonable thing I could do? If you loved me you would not fear it."