Solitude, once sweet and profitable, now grew fearful
unto Olive's tortured mind. And to escape it she had no resource, but
that which she knew was to her like a poison-draught, and for which she
yet thirsted evermore--the daily welcome at the Parsonage. But the web
of circumstances, which she herself seemed to have no power to break,
was at length apparently broken for her. One day she received a
letter from her father's aunt, Miss Flora Rothesay, inviting--nay,
entreating--her to visit Edinburgh, that the old lady might look upon
the last of her race.

For a moment Olive blessed this chance of quitting the scenes now become
so painful. But then, Harold might need her. In his present conflict of
feeling and of purpose he had no confidant save herself. She would
have braved years of suffering if her presence could have given him one
hour's relief from care. But of this she must judge, so she set off at
once to the Parsonage.

"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Gwynne, with a smiling and mysterious face,
"of course you will go at once! It will do your health a world of good.
Harold said so only this morning."

"Then he knew of the letter?"

"Why, to tell the truth, I believe he originated the plan. He saw you
wanted change--he has such a regard for you, Olive."

Then _he_ had done it all! He could let her part from him, easily,
as friend from friend. Yet, what marvel! they were nothing more. She
answered, quietly, "I will go."

She told him so when he came in. He seemed much pleased; and said, with
more than his usual frankness,

"I should like you to know aunt Flora. You see, I call her _my_ aunt
Flora, too, for she is of some distant kin, and I have dearly loved her
ever since I was a boy."

It was something to be going to one whom Harold "dearly loved." Olive
felt a little comfort in her proposed journey.

"Besides, she knows you quite well already, my dear," observed Mrs.
Gwynne. "She tells me Harold used often to talk about you during his
visit with her this summer."

"I had a reason," said Harold, his dark cheek changing a little. "I
wished her to know and love her niece, and I was sure her niece would
soon learn to love _her_."

"Why, that is kind, and like yourself, my son. How thoughtfully you have
been planning everything for Olive."

"Olive will not be angry with me for that?" he said, and stopped. It was
the first time she had ever heard him utter her Christian name. At the
sound her heart leaped wil