ather
agreeable to have everything arranged for one, with no trouble. You
should hear Miss Fanny, when in some difficult conjunction of
circumstances--she resigns herself to superior guidance. `Mamma will
manage it.' Certainly she does manage some difficult matters."

There was the faintest echo of mimicry in Arthur's tone, as he repeated
Miss Fanny's words, which Graeme was quite ashamed of being glad to
hear.

"It was very stupid of me, to be sure! Such folly to suppose that
Arthur would fall into that shallow woman's snares. No; Arthur's wife
must be a very different woman from pretty little Fanny Grove. I wish I
knew anyone good enough and lovely enough for him. But there is no
haste about it. Ah, me! Changes will come soon enough, we need not
seek to hasten them. And yet, we need not fear them whatever they may
be. I am very sure of that. But I am very glad that there is no harm
done."

And yet, the harm that Graeme so much dreaded, was done before three
months were over. Before that time she had it from Arthur's own lips,
that he had engaged himself to Fanny Grove; one who, to his sisters,
seemed altogether unworthy of him. She never quite knew how to receive
his announcement, but she was conscious at the time of feeling thankful;
and she was ever afterwards thankful, that she had not heard it a day
sooner, to mar the pleasure of the last few hours of Norman's stay.

For Norman came with his bride even sooner than they had expected.
Graeme was not disappointed in her new sister, and that is saying much,
for her expectations had been highly raised. She had expected to find
her an intellectual and self-reliant woman, but she had not expected to
see so charming and lovable a little lady. They all loved her dearly
from the very first; and Graeme satisfied Norman by her unfeigned
delight in her new sister, who was frank, and natural and childlike, and
yet so amiable and wise as well.

And Graeme rejoiced over Norman even more than over Hilda. He was just
what she had always hoped he might become. Contact with the world had
not spoiled him. He was the same Norman; perhaps a little graver than
he used to be in the old times, but in all things true, and frank, and
earnest, as the Merleville school-boy had been.

How they lived over those old times! There was sadness in the pleasure,
for Norman had never seen the two graves in that quiet church-yard; and
the names of the dead were spoken softly.