for me to go back
to the Grange as his wife."

"Yes, darling, I know Raby wishes this, and I hope you mean to
consent."

"I--I do not know what to say--the idea somehow frightens me. It is
all so quick and sudden--next week; will not people think it strange?
A quiet English wedding in the dear little Sandycliffe church seems to
me so much nicer. But Raby seems to dread the waiting so, Margaret,"
and here her eyes filled with tears. "I think he does not trust
me--that he is afraid I may leave him again; and the idea pains me."

"No, dearest," returned Margaret, soothingly; "I am sure such a
thought never entered Raby's head; but he has suffered so, and I think
all the trouble, and his blindness, make him nervous; he was saying so
last night, and accusing himself of selfishness, but he owned that he
could not control a nervous dread that something might happen to
separate you both, Crystal," looking at her wistfully. "Is the idea of
an immediate marriage so repugnant; if not, I wish you would give way
in this."

Crystal looked up, startled by her earnestness, and then she said,
with sweet humility, "It is only that I feel so unworthy of all this
happiness; but if you and Raby think it best, I will be guided by you.
Will you tell him so? but no, there he is alone; I will go to him
myself."

Raby heard her coming, and held out his hand with a smile.

"You see I never mistake your footsteps," he said, in the tone he kept
for her ear; "I should distinguish them in a crowd. Well, darling?"
waiting for the word he knew would follow.

"Margaret has been talking to me, and I see she approves--it shall be
next week if you wish it, Raby; that is, if Miss Campion will spare
me."

"She will gladly do so, especially as Margaret offers to keep her
company for a fortnight; after that we will all go back in the same
steamer. Thanks, my darling, for consenting; you have made me very
happy. I knew you would not refuse," lifting the little hand to has
lips.

"I feel as though I have no power to refuse you anything," was her
loving answer; "but I know it is all your thought for me, Raby,"
pressing closer to him in the empty dusk, for there were no curious
eyes upon them--only night-moths wheeling round them. "Are you never
afraid of what you are doing; do you not fear that I may disappoint
you?"

"No," he answered, calmly, "I fear nothing."

"Not my unhappy temper?" she whispered; and he could feel the slight
figure trembli