ays out of his wonderful eyes, as
though desirous of assuring himself of her sanity.

Oh, yes, of course James will be delighted. And he will tell her so
with the gentle smile that so lights up his face, and he will take her
hand, and say he is so glad, so pleased, and----

With a sharp pang she remembers how her father was neither pleased nor
glad when she confided her secret to him. He had been, indeed,
distressed and confounded. He had certainly tried his hardest to
conceal from her these facts, but she had seen them all the same. She
could not be deceived where her father was concerned. He had felt
unmistakable regret----"Be quiet, Bill! You sha'n't come out driving
again if you can't sit still! What a bore a dog is sometimes!"

Well, after all, he is her father. It is only natural he should
dislike the thought of parting from her. She thinks, with an instant
softening of her heart, of how necessary she has become to him, ever
since her final return home. Before that he had been dull and
_distrait_; now he is bright and cheerful, if still rather too devoted
to his books to be quite good for him.

He might, indeed, be forgiven for regarding the man who should take
her from him as an enemy. But Jim is different; he is a mere
friend,--a dear and valued one, it is true, but still only a
friend,--a being utterly independent of her, who can be perfectly
happy without her, and therefore, of course, unprejudiced.

He will, she feels sure, say everything kind and sweet to her, and
wish her joy sincerely.

James, too, is very sensible, and will see the good points in Horace.
He evidently likes him; at least, they have always appeared excellent
friends when together. Dorian, of course, is the general
favorite,--she acknowledges that,--just because he is a little more
open, more outspoken perhaps,--easier to understand; whereas, she
firmly believes, she alone of all the world is capable of fully
appreciating the innate goodness of Horace!

Here she turns in the huge gateway of Scrope; and the terrier, growing
excited, gives way to a sharp bark, and the ponies swing merrily down
the avenue; and just before she comes to the hall door her heart fails
her, and something within her--that something that never errs--tells
her that James Scrope will not betray any pleasure at her tidings.

Before she quite reaches the hall door, a groom comes from a
side-walk, and, seeing him, Clarissa pulls up the ponies sharply, and
asks th