de, began to chatter
confidentially.

"I'm _so_ glad I came across you," he said; "you looked very dull when I
came up, and it must be nice for you to have me to talk to, and 'tis
very nice for me too, for I am fond of you."

"I am glad of that, Harold," said Charlotte.

"But I don't think you are quite such a pretty lady as you were,"
continued the boy, raising his eyes to her face and examining her
critically. "Mr. Hinton and I used to think you were perfectly lovely!
You were so _bright_--yes, bright is the word. Something like a dear
pretty cherry, or like my little canary when he's singing his very, very
best. But you ain't a bit like my canary to-day; you have no sing in you
to-day; ain't you happy, my pretty lady?"

"I have had some trouble since I saw you last, Harold," said Charlotte.

"Dear, dear!" sighed Harold, "everybody seems to have lots of trouble. I
wonder why. No; I don't think Mr. Hinton would think you pretty to-day.
But," as a sudden thought and memory came over him--"I suppose you are
married by this time? Aren't you married to my Mr. Hinton by this time?"

"No, dear," answered Charlotte.

"But why?" questioned the inquisitive boy.

"I am afraid I cannot tell you that, Harold."

Harold was silent for about half a minute. He was sitting down on the
grass close to Charlotte, and his head was leaning against her shoulder.
After a moment he continued with a sigh,--

"I guess _he's_ very sorry. He and I used to talk about you so at night
when I had the fever. I knew then he was fond of you, nearly as fond as
I am myself."

"I am glad little Harold Home loves me," said Charlotte, soothed by the
pretty boy's talk, and again she stooped down to kiss him.

"But everybody does," said the boy. "There's father and mother, and my
Mr. Hinton and me, myself, and above all, the blessed Jesus."

A strange feeling, half pleasure, half surprise, came over Charlotte.

"How do you know about that last?" she whispered.

"Of course I know," replied Harold. "I know quite well. I heard father
and mother say it; I heard them say it quite plainly one day; 'She's one
of those blessed ones whom Jesus Christ loves very much.' Oh dear! I
wish the children weren't back so dreadfully soon."

Yes, the children and Anne had returned, and Harold had to say good-bye,
and Charlotte herself had to retrace her steps homewards. But her walk
had not been for nothing, and there was a new peace, a new quiet, and a
new hope