ne nice to you?"

"Nice?" repeated Greta, with a little sob; "he was as dear as possible.
If I had been Olive he could not have been more gentle. I tell Alwyn
that I shall be quite spoiled between them, but somehow as he talked to
me I could not help thinking of poor father and of my mother. How
happy mother would have been, for she was always so fond of Alwyn."

"Yes; dear, I understand."

"Yes, and Alwyn understands, too. He told me so just now. He said
that though this was the happiest day of his life, he could not help
missing his mother and Olive. Olivia, do you know that Mr. Gaythorne
means us to live with him? I was just a little bit frightened when I
heard that, and I am afraid Alwyn saw it, for he spoke about it
afterwards."

"Does he wish it himself?" Olivia was careful to reserve her own
opinion. Both she and Marcus had their own views on this subject.

"I do not know what he really wishes, and it was too soon to discuss
things, but he did say that he thought that his father ought not to be
left alone, and, of course, he is right, and it is for him to decide,"
and then she gave an embarrassed little laugh.

"Mr. Gaythorne was very good to me, but you know what an autocrat he
is. He wants it to be soon, very soon. Oh, he quite took my breath
away, and I could see Alwyn was sorry for me. He thinks it is the
impatience of the disease and that we must humour him a little. Alwyn
was so beautifully gentle with him and so considerate for me, but he
saw how overwhelmed I was."

"Yes, one wants quiet at first to realise one's happiness," returned
Olivia, sympathetically. "Now I am going to make the tea, and you
shall join us when you like."

But when she got downstairs she found Alwyn alone. He was pacing up
and down as though he were anxious.

"Where is Marcus?" she asked at once.

"Oh, someone wanted him at No. 25, Sligo Street. I was to tell you
that," and then, with a change of tone, "I hope my father did not
really upset Greta."

"Oh, no; she was only a little overwhelmed."

"No wonder! You know what my father is, Mrs. Luttrell. He never will
wait for anything. If a thing is to be done it must be done at once.
Only yesterday I was laughing at him, and telling him he would have
made an excellent slave-driver. He is immensely pleased and excited,
and he treated Greta as though she were a princess. He has fine
manners, you will allow that, but the dear girl looked dreadfully shy
a