or dying you were his one thought. 'I know how she will
grieve,' he said to me, 'but, father, you must not let her grieve too
long. I think it would trouble me even in paradise--if such a thing
could be--if I thought I had spoilt her life. Elizabeth is made for
happiness--she must not waste her sweetness.' And then--shall I go on?"
but all the same he did not wait for consent--"it was then that David
told me something that I had guessed before--that some one else loved
you, and loved you dearly. I am right, am I not, Elizabeth?" No answer,
but he could see how her hands clutched each other, as though in sudden
agitation.

"'I was beforehand, and he had no chance,' David went on, 'but he is my
superior in everything'--he was always so humble in his own estimation,
dear fellow. 'Father, Malcolm Herrick worships the ground she walks on.
One day he must have his reward.'"

"Oh, hush--hush, for pity's sake," and Elizabeth stretched out her hand
to stop him, but he detained it gently.

"Elizabeth, three years are long enough for mourning, and Mr. Herrick
has been very patient. Why should another life be spoiled? Why should
you doom him as well as yourself to loneliness? I have not forgotten
his look that evening when you were singing to us--it was the look of a
man who is starving for a little happiness, for the comfort and sweet
sustenance that only a wife can give him. There, I will say no more--I
have discharged my conscience, and repeated my boy's words. I trust
they have not been spoken in vain." His hand rested lightly on her head
for a moment as though in blessing, but no word escaped his lips. Then
he rose, and after a moment Elizabeth joined him, and they walked back
silently together.

"You are not vexed with me, my dear?" he asked anxiously, when they
parted at the gate of Rowan Cottage. Then Elizabeth raised her sad eyes
to his.

"Why should I be vexed? You are always so kind--so kind; but you have
said things that have troubled me;" and she left him, and walked on
rapidly until she found herself in the familiar woodland path, and then
she unconsciously slackened her pace.

She felt strangely shaken and agitated. The words her old friend had
spoken had thrilled her as though by an electric shock. It was a
message from the dead. Half-involuntarily she sank down on the bank in
the very spot where Malcolm had picked the honeysuckle. She knew what
it was to be tired now--for the moment she felt weak and powerle