life for anything but love.
Ranald is a noble man and he will be a great man some day, and I love
him as my own son, but I would not have you give yourself to him unless
you truly loved him." She did not mention De Lacy's name nor utter a
word in comparison of the two, but listening to her voice, Maimie knew
only too well whither her love had gone.

"Oh, auntie," she cried, "I cannot bear it!"

"Yes, Maimie dear, you can bear to do the right, for there is One in
whose strength we can do all things."

Before Maimie could reply her Aunt Frances came in.

"It is dinner-time," she announced, "and your father has just come in,
Maimie, and we must have dinner over at once."

Maimie rose, and going to the glass, smoothed back her hair. Her Aunt
Frances glanced at her face and then at Mrs. Murray, and as if fearing
Maimie's reply, went on hurriedly, "You must look your very best
to-night, and even better to-morrow," she said, smiling, significantly.
She came and put her hands on Maimie's shoulders, and kissing her, said:
"Have you told your Aunt Murray who is coming to-morrow? I am sure
I'm very thankful, my dear, you will be very happy. It is an excellent
match. Half the girls in town will be wild with envy. He has written a
very manly letter to your father, and I am sure he is a noble fellow,
and he has excellent prospects. But we must hurry down to dinner," she
said, turning to Mrs. Murray, who with a look of sadness on her pale
face, left the room without a word.

"Ranald is not coming," said Maimie, when her Aunt Murray had gone.

"Indeed, from what your father says," cried Aunt Frank, indignantly, "I
do not very well see how he could. He has been most impertinent."

"You are not to say that, Aunt Frank," cried Maimie. "Ranald could not
be impertinent, and I will not hear it." Her tone was so haughty and
fierce that Aunt Frank thought it wiser to pursue this subject no
further.

"Well," she said, as she turned to leave the room, "I'm very glad he has
the grace to keep away tonight. He has always struck me as a young man
of some presumption."

When the door closed upon her Maimie tore the note from her bosom and
pressed it again and again to her lips: "Oh, Ranald, Ranald," she cried,
"I love you! I love you! Oh, why can it not be? Oh, I cannot--I cannot
give him up!" She threw herself upon her knees and laid her face in
the bed. In a few minutes there came a tap at the door, and her Aunt
Frances's voice was hear