miserable
doubt, at finding the field already taken, nearly drove Mr. Murray into
a precipitancy that he might have regretted forever. As it was, he
answered Kittie's inquiries for Pansy, in a pre-occupied way, that was
surprising, and seemed too much pleased with that envelope to ever lay
it down; and yet, with all his looking, he failed to discover that the
name, in a maze of flourishes, was Miss Kathleen Dering, instead of Miss
Katherine. Just so do we make up our minds to see things in a certain
light, and see them so, in spite of fate.

How pleasant it was, sitting there in the warm firelight, with Kittie
opposite, in the low rocking chair, and no one else near. It seemed so
homelike and sweet to this man who had no fireside of his own, and only
a memory of one short, happy year, when another girlish face and heart,
not unlike Kittie's, had been all his own. He wished now, that no one
else would come in to spoil this cozy chat; but they did, in just a
moment--Mrs. Dering and Bea; and Kittie resigned the low rocker, for a
corner over on the lounge, to his great regret.

They all heard with polite and honest expressions of regret, that he was
going to leave for the city on the next day; but after hearing that he
was going to leave Pansy behind, Kittie was quite satisfied.

"I have no home, you know," he said, looking at Mrs. Dering, with an
expression that caused her kindly heart to pity him. "I shall board,
and be hard at work 'till late every night, and poor little Pansy would
have a dreary life with a hired nurse. Besides, the influences
surrounding her would not be such as I would like. So Sister Julia has
kindly promised to keep her until I can make some arrangements, and
become a little settled."

He staid for some time; promised to call in and see Olive, who had gone
to her studies at last; and then he rose to leave. If he held Kittie's
hand a little longer than any of the others, no one noticed it; and if,
in that good-bye, his eyes went to her face less guarded in their
expression than usual, no one noticed that either, because no one
dreamed of such a thing.

"May I have Pansy with me as often as I want her?" asked Kittie, just
before he left.

"Certainly; I shall always be pleased to hear that you still love the
child, and that she is sometimes with you," he answered, lingering, as
if loth to go. But at that instant a step was heard on the porch, and a
certain expression in Bea's face warned him tha