be intolerable
beyond measure. Too unhappy to speak of her anticipations even to
Leonard or to Mary May, she merely endeavoured to throw them off from
day to day, till one evening, when the days had grown so long that she
could linger in the twilight in the garden before her singing practice,
she was joined by Henry, with the long apprehended 'I want to speak to
you, Ave.'

Was it coming? Her heart beat so fast, that she could hardly hear his
kind commencement about her excellent endeavours, and the house's
unhappy want of a mistress, the children's advantage, and so on. She
knew it could only tend to one point, and longed to have it reached and
passed. Of course she would be prepared to hear who was the object of
his choice, and she could not but murmur 'Yes,' and 'Well.'

'And, Ave, you will, I hope, be gratified to hear that I am not
entirely rejected. The fact is, that I spoke too soon.' Averil could
have jumped for joy, and was glad it was too dusk for her face to be
seen. 'I do not believe that her late husband could have had any
strong hold on her affections; but she has not recovered the shock of
his loss, and entreated, as a favour granted to her sentiments of
respect for his memory, not to hear the subject mentioned for at least
another year. I am permitted to visit at the house as usual, and no
difference is to be made in the terms on which we stand. Now, Ave,
will you--may I ask of you, to do what you can to remove any impression
that she might not be welcome in the family?'

'I never meant--' faltered Averil, checked by sincerity.

'You have always been--so--so cold and backward in cultivating her
acquaintance, that I cannot wonder if she should think it disagreeable
to you; but, Ave, when you consider my happiness, and the immense
advantage to all of you, I am sure you will do what is in your power in
my behalf.' He spoke more affectionately and earnestly than he had
done for months; and Averil was touched, and felt that to hang back
would be unkind.

'I will try,' she said. 'I do hope it may turn out for your happiness,
Henry.'

'For all our happiness,' said Henry, walking down to the gate and along
the road with her, proving all the way that he was acting solely for
the good of the others, and that Averil and the children would find
their home infinitely happier.

A whole year--a year's reprieve--was the one thought in Averil's head,
that made her listen so graciously, and answer so a