rhaps
you thought of going out?"

"No," she answered; "not to-night."

He came quite close to her.

"If you are not too greatly fatigued," he said, "it would give me
happiness to take you with me on my errand to your mother's house. I
must carry there my little birthday gift to your sister," smiling again.

An expression of embarrassment showed itself upon her face.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "to think that I had forgotten it! She will feel as
if I did not care for her at all."

She seemed for the moment quite unhappy.

"Let me see what you have chosen."

He drew from his pocket a case and opened it.

"Oh," she cried, "how pretty and how suitable for a girl!"

They were the prettiest, most airy set of pearls imaginable.

She sat and looked at them for a few seconds thoughtfully, and then
handed them back.

"You are very good, and Jenny will be in ecstasies," she said.

"It is a happiness to me to give her pleasure," he returned. "I feel
great tenderness for her. She is not like the young girls I have known.
Her innocence is of a frank and noble quality, which is better than
ignorance. One could not bear that the slightest shadow of sin or pain
should fall upon her. The atmosphere surrounding her is so bright with
pure happiness and the courage of youth."

Involuntarily he held out his hand.

"Will you"--he began. His voice fell and broke. "Will you go with me?"
he ended.

He saw that she was troubled.

"Now?" she faltered.

"Yes--now."

There was a peculiar pause,--a moment, as it seemed to him, of
breathless silence. This silence she broke by her rising slowly from her
seat.

"Yes," she responded, "I will go. Why should I not?"

It was midnight when they left the Trents', and Jenny stood upon the
threshold, a bright figure in a setting of brightness, and kissed her
hand to them as they went down the steps.

"I hope you will be better to-morrow, Arthur," she said.

He turned quickly to look up at her.

"I?"

"Yes. You look so tired. I might say haggard, if it was polite."

"It would not be polite," said Bertha, "so don't say it. Good-night,
Jenny!"

But when they were seated in the carriage she glanced at her husband's
face.

"_Are_ you unwell?" she asked.

He passed his hand quickly across his forehead.

"A little fatigued," he replied. "It is nothing. To-morrow--to-morrow it
will be all over."

And so silence fell upon them.

As they entered the drawing-room a clock chimed the h