d made little doubt but that she should at least be
able to attend her. So, with this hope, Mrs. Waugh kissed her and
departed.

The very truth was, that Marian wished to see and consult her bethrothed
before consenting to leave home for what seemed to her to be so long a
journey, and for so long a period. In fact, Marian was not now a free
agent; she had suffered her free will to slip from her own possession
into that of Thurston.

She had not seen him all the wretched weather, and her heart now yearned
for his presence. And that very afternoon Marian had a most pressing
errand to Charlotte Hall, to purchase groceries, which the little family
had got entirely out of during the continuance of the snow.

There was no certainty that she should see Thurston; still she hoped to
do so, nor was her hope disappointed.

He overtook her a short distance from the village, on her road home.

Their meeting was a very glad one--heart sprang to heart and hand to
hand--and neither affected to conceal the pleasure that it gave them.
After the first joyous greetings, and the first earnest and affectionate
inquiries about each other's health and welfare, both became grave and
silent for a little while. Marian was reflecting how to propose to leave
him for a three-months' visit to the gay capital, little thinking that
Thurston himself was perplexed with the question of how to break to her
the news of the necessity of his own immediate departure to England for
an absence of at least six or eight months. Marian spoke first.

"Dear Thurston, I have something to propose to you, that I fear you will
not like very well; but if you do not, speak freely; for I am not
bound."

"I--I do not understand you, love! Pray explain at once," said he, quick
to take alarm where she was concerned.

"You know poor little Jacquelina has fallen into very bad health and
spirits? Well, her physicians recommend change of air and scene, and her
friends have decided to take her to Washington to pass the remainder of
the winter. And the little creature has set her sickly fancy upon having
me to go with her. Now, I think it is some sort a duty to go, and I
would not willingly refuse. Nevertheless, dear Thurston, I dread to
leave you, and if you think you will be very lonesome this winter
without me--if you are likely to miss me one-half as much as I have
missed you these last three weeks, I will not leave you at all."

He put his hand out and took hers, and