ards intend locating permanently in Snowdon?" Mrs. Johnson
asked of her daughter as they sat alone one pleasant spring evening.

"His sign would indicate as much," was Alice's reply.

"Mother," she said gently, "you look pale and worried. You have looked
so for some time past. What is it, mother? Are you very sick, or are you
troubled about me?"

"Is there any reason why I should be troubled about my darling?" asked
the mother.

Alice never had any secrets from her mother, and she answered frankly:
"I don't know, unless--unless--mother, why don't you like Dr. Richards?"

The ice was fairly broken now, and very briefly but candidly Mrs.
Johnson told why she did not like him. He was handsome, refined,
educated, and agreeable, she admitted, but still there was something
lacking. The mask he was wearing had not deceived her, and she would
have liked him far better without it. This she said to Alice, adding
gently: "He may be all he seems, but I doubt it. I distrust him greatly.
I think he fancies you and loves your money."

"Oh, mother," and in Alice's voice there was a sound of tears, "you do
him injustice, and he has been so kind to us, while Snowdon is so much
pleasanter since he came."

"Are you engaged to him?" was Mrs. Johnson's next question.

"No," and Alice looked up wonderingly. "I do not believe I like him
well enough for that."

Alice Johnson was wholly ingenuous and would not for the world have
concealed a thing from her mother, and very frankly she continued:

"I like Dr. Richards better than any gentleman I have ever met. I should
have told you, mother."

"God bless my darling, and keep her as innocent as now," Mrs. Johnson
murmured. "I am glad there is no engagement. Will you promise there
shall not be for one year at least?"

"Yes, I will, I do," Alice said at last.

A second "God bless my darling," came from the mother's lips, and
drawing her treasure nearer to her, she continued: "You have made me
very happy, and by and by you'll be so glad. You may leave me now, for I
am tired and sick."

It was long ere Alice forgot the expression of her mother's face or the
sound of her voice, so full of love and tenderness, as she bade her
good-night on that last evening they ever spent together alone. The
indisposition of which Mrs. Johnson had been complaining for several
days, proved to be no light matter, and when next morning Dr. Rogers was
summoned to her bedside, he decided it to be a fever whi