darling!" came in a low, heartfelt whisper. And Miss Ashton, with a
faint cry, turned to see her engaged lover, Val Elster.

She stood before him, literally unable to speak in her great
astonishment, the red roses going and coming in her delicate cheeks,
the rich brown eyes, that might have been too brilliant but for their
exceeding sweetness, raised questioningly to his. Mr. Elster folded her
in his arms as if he would never release her again, and kissed the
shrinking face repeatedly.

"Oh, Percival, Percival! Don't! Let me go."

He did so at last, and held her before him, her eyelids drooping now,
to gaze at the face he loved so well--yes, loved fervently and well, in
spite of his follies and sins. Her heart was beating wildly with its own
rapture: for her the world had suddenly grown brighter.

"But when did you arrive?" she whispered, scarcely knowing how to utter
the words in her excessive happiness.

He took her upon his arm and began to pace the room with her while he
explained. There was an attempt at excuse for his prolonged absence--for
Val Elster had returned from his duties in Vienna in May, and it was now
August, and he had lingered through the intervening time in London,
enjoying himself--but that was soon glossed over; and he told her how his
brother was coming down on the morrow with a houseful of guests, and he,
Val, had offered to go before them with the necessary instructions. He
did not say _why_ he had offered to do this; that his debts had become so
pressing he was afraid to show himself longer in London. Such facts were
not for the ear of that fair girl, who trusted him as the truest man she
knew under heaven.

"What have you been doing, Anne?"

He pointed to the maps, and Miss Ashton laughed.

"Mrs. Graves was here yesterday; she is very clever, you know; and when
something was being said about the course of ships out of England, I made
some dreadful mistakes. She took me up sharply, and papa looked at me
sharply--and the result is, I have to do a heap of maps. Please tell me
if it's right, Percival?"

She held up her pencilled work of the morning. He was laughing.

"What mistakes did you make, Anne?"

"I am not sure but I said something about an Indiaman, leaving the London
Docks, having to pass Scarborough," she returned demurely. "It was quite
as bad."

"Do you remember, Anne, being punished for persisting, in spite of the
slate on the wall and your nursery-governess, that the Me