words.

She would not, must not, dared not hope that Paul repented of his
choice, unless it might be that repentance were mutual, in which case?

But after a night of fitful sleep and miserable awakenings, Leo would
come down heavy-eyed and feverish, to find a prosaic, business-like
dialogue being carried on by the very individuals who had figured so
differently in the phantasms of the small hours, and her entrance would
hardly be noticed by either, so engrossed were they by each other.

Once indeed she wondered whether Paul were not a trifle too
ostentatiously engrossed? Whether it were the case that he really did
not see her slip into the vacant chair, the only vacant chair at the
table? His head was steadily turned the other way, but her sisters
addressed her and still he perceived, or affected to perceive, no
addition to the party. Was he, could he be afraid of her penetration?
Did he suspect that it went further than was convenient?

Maud was unusually animated that morning. "It really fits in
wonderfully, this plan of Aunt Charlotte's; and I must say I little
expected her to be the one to come to the rescue."

"What is the plan?" inquired Leo aside of Sybil.

"Aunt Charlotte offers us her house for the winter." Sybil also looked
excited and jubilant. "She is going abroad, and says she will leave us
everything as it stands."

"But a house in Eaton Place, and it is one of the larger houses too,"
demurred Sue, "would it not be rather expensive----?"

"Not in the least, seeing that we are to have Aunt Charlotte's servants.
It is really _most_ kind," averred Maud, with the warmest approval; "I
should not think of refusing, not for a moment. And St. Peter's close
by--" with a meaning smile to Paul--"what could be better?"

"Hi, Lion, Lion?" said he, looking under the table.

"You will close with the offer at once, Sue?" proceeded Maud, too much
elated and gratified to observe the lack of response; "don't lose a
post, in case the good lady changes her mind. How soon can we go, do you
think?"

But even the gentle Sue kindled a little beneath a note which jarred on
all, and she looked a mute reproach.

"Well? How soon?" impatiently reiterated her sister.

How soon? To leave for evermore the old familiar scenes, the peaceful
glades--every spot hallowed by memories and associations? To take a last
farewell of the only life she had ever known, to fling it aside like a
worn-out garment? Was it possible that any