er in
the same household, and always regarded her as a sister, and Ethel never
remembered that she was only her aunt by adoption. Ten years older than
her niece, she had mothered her with a wise and loving patience, and
her thoughts never wandered long or far from the girl. Consequently,
she soon found herself wondering what reason there could be for Dora
Denning's urgency.

In the meantime Ethel had reached her friend's residence a new building
of unusual size and very ornate architecture. Liveried footmen and
waiting women bowed her with mute attention to Miss Denning's suite, an
absolutely private arrangement of five rooms, marvelously furnished
for the young lady's comfort and delight. The windows of her parlor
overlooked the park, and she was standing at one of them as Ethel
entered the room. In a passion of welcoming gladness she turned to her,
exclaiming: "I have been watching for you hours and hours, Ethel. I have
the most wonderful thing to tell you. I am so happy! So happy! No one
was ever as happy as I am."

Then Ethel took both her hands, and, as they stood together, she looked
intently at her friend. Some new charm transfigured her face; for her
dark, gazelle eyes were not more lambent than her cheeks, though in
a different way; while her black hair in its picturesquely arranged
disorder seemed instinct with life, and hardly to be restrained. She was
constantly pushing it back, caressing or arranging it; and her white,
slender fingers, sparkling with jewels, moved among the crimped and wavy
locks, as if there was an intelligent sympathy between them.

"How beautiful you are to-day, Dora! Who has worked wonders on you?"

"Basil Stanhope. He loves me! He loves me! He told me so last night--in
the sweetest words that were ever uttered. I shall never forget one
of them--never, as long as I live! Let us sit down. I want to tell you
everything."

"I am astonished, Dora!"

"So was mother, and father, and Bryce. No one suspected our affection.
Mother used to grumble about my going 'at all hours' to St. Jude's
church; but that was because St. Jude's is so very High Church, and
mother is a Methodist Episcopal. It was the morning and evening prayers
she objected to. No one had any suspicion of the clergyman. Oh, Ethel,
he is so handsome! So good! So clever! I think every woman in the church
is in love with him."

"Then if he is a good man, he must be very unhappy."

"Of course he is quite ignorant of their a