g. July was not yet ended, and roses,
lilies, and mignonette breathed their fragrance upon the air. Overhead
one clear star was shining; like the star of promise that shone of old,
it seemed to Marjory an omen of a new life for her. Peace entered into
her soul as she gazed upwards. Away to the west the last lingering
tints of a late sunset were still to be seen; the whole world seemed at
rest. She, too, would lie down and sleep, calm after the storm, and
to-morrow she would begin a new day. She would tell her uncle she was
sorry, and would try to follow Mrs. Forester's advice. Loving words that
she would say to the doctor came into her mind, and she fell asleep
thinking of him with tenderness and gratitude.

When the morrow came, Marjory awoke with a confused sense that something
unusual was to happen that day. She gradually remembered her resolution
of the night before; but the loving words she had planned to say seemed
frozen inside her, and she felt as if she did not dare to speak to her
uncle.

She went down to breakfast dreading the meeting with him; but Dr. Hunter
said good-morning as usual, just as if nothing had happened. Marjory
noticed, with a pang of self-reproach, that he looked tired, and that
his eyes had a weary expression that was not usually there. He ate his
breakfast in silence, but that was nothing out of the common, for they
often sat through a meal with little or no conversation. Marjory hated
this state of things, and yet she had never had the courage to try to
alter it. She would sit and rack her brains for something to say, and
then decide that it was impossible that anything she could say would
interest a grown-up man, and a man so stern and silent as Uncle George.
Lately she had actually come to dreading meal-times, and would be
thankful when they were over and she could escape. All this was very
foolish on her part, no doubt, but it arose entirely from her
misunderstanding of her uncle.

Contrary to her usual custom, she hovered about the dining-room after
breakfast was over that morning, trying to make up her mind to speak.
She watched her uncle wind the clock on the mantelpiece, saying to
herself that she would speak when he left off turning the key, but she
let the opportunity slip by. Then the doctor gathered up his letters and
papers and went to his study without a word or a look in her direction.
In fact, he was quite unconscious of her presence for the time being; he
was thinking de