ar," he said, "she is likely to marry a rich
man. She has been brought up in all luxury, and would never be able to
bear privation. I shall feel satisfied of her future now."

Alas! so did I. I rode home through the sweet, gathering gloom and the
starlight, one of the happiest men in England. I had won my love. She
loved me whom I loved best.

There seemed to be nothing wanting then. Two short years ago I was poor,
my daily life one of monotonous toil, without the least hope of relief.
Now the silvery moon fell upon the woods and silvered the roof of the
grand old mansion, and all this fair land over which I was riding was
mine.

Coralie was waiting for me. She affected to be just crossing the hall,
but I knew that she had been waiting there to have the first word with
me. She looked eagerly into my face.

"How long you have been away, Sir Edgar! Surely the starlight agrees
with you. I have coffee ready for you in the drawing-room--you have
dined, I suppose?"

"Yes, I dined at Harden Manor. I have been there all day."

A dark cloud came for a moment over her radiant face.

"All day," she repeated. "Ah, poor Miles! If he rode over in the morning
they were always sure to make him stay to the evening, if they could."

"If Miles found the place as pleasant as I do, the length of his visits
would not surprise me," I said, laughingly. "I will run up to see Clare
first and then try your coffee, Coralie."

I longed to tell my good news to my sister.

"Clare," I said, kneeling by her side, "look at me. Do you know, can you
guess, what news I have to tell you?"

She raised her eyes to mine; she laid her dear hand on my brow.

"I can guess," she said, quietly. "You have told Agatha you love her,
and have asked her to be your wife. Is that it?"

"Yes. She has promised, Clare. She loves me--she whom I have always
looked up to as some queen so far above me."

"Any good woman would love you, Edgar," said my sister. She hesitated,
then asked slowly: "Have you said anything to Coralie?"

"Certainly not. Why should I?"

A delicate color flushed my sister's face.

"To tell you the truth," she replied, "I have fancied of late that
Coralie likes you. Nay, I need not mince matters; I am quite sure she
loves you."

"She loves us both, because we are all in the world she has to love; but
not in the way you mean, Clare."

But Clare shook her head doubtfully.

"I hope I may be mistaken; but, Edgar, I have a nervous feeli