h of hope came into her mind,
and then fear. What did it mean? Was he going because he dared not ask
her, or would his mother tell him that he would surely succeed? Oh, her
promise!

Her breath came quick, and Mr. Forsythe saw it, "Yes," he said,
stammering with embarrassment, "I--I fear I shall have to
go--ah--important business."

Just then both these unhappy young people caught sight of Helen coming
serenely across the lawn.

"There's my cousin," said Lois; "let us go and meet her."

"Oh, yes, do!" Dick answered fervently; and presently greeted Helen with
a warmth which made her give Lois a quick, questioning look from under
her straight brows, and sent her thoughts with a flash of sympathy to
Gifford Woodhouse.

When the young man had gone, Helen said to her cousin, "Lois, dear--?"

But Lois only threw herself into her arms with such floods of tears Helen
could do nothing but try to calm her.

Lois was not the only one who heard of Dick's plan of leaving Ashurst
with mingled joy and dread. Gifford knew that Mr. Forsythe was going
away, and seeing the distress in Lois's face, in these sad days, he put
it down to grief at his departure. It was easier to give himself this
pain than to reflect that Lois was trembling with anxiety about Mr.
Denner, and was still full of alarm for Mrs. Forsythe.

"If that puppy neglects her," he thought, "if she cares for him, and if
he grieves her, I vow I'll have a word to say to him! Now why should she
cry, if it isn't because he's going away?"

Though he was glad Ashurst would see the last of this objectionable young
man, Lois's grief turned his gladness into pain, and there was no hope
for himself in his relief at Dick's departure. Miss Deborah, with the
best intentions in the world, had made that impossible.

The day after Dr. Howe had told Mr. Denner that he must die, Gifford had
come home for a few minutes. He had met the little ladies walking arm in
arm up and down one of the shady paths of their walled garden. Miss Ruth
still held her trowel in her hand, and her shabby gloves were stained by
the weeds she had pulled up.

"Oh, there you are, dear Giff," she cried; "we were just looking for you.
Pray, how is Mr. Denner?"

Gifford's serious face answered her without words, and none of the group
spoke for a moment. Then Gifford said, "It cannot last much longer. You
see, he suffers very much at night; it doesn't seem as though he could
live through another."

"Oh, d