, pleading calm, and say to me--`Bear with me; be patient. If you
love me, give me time till all these sorrows of the past have grown
blurred and faint with distance.' Guest, old fellow, she gives me no
hope. There is no verbal promise, but there is a something in her
gentle, compassionate look which says to me--`Wait; if ever I can forget
the past--if ever I marry man--it will be you.'"

There was a deep silence in the room, and faintly heard came the roar of
the great city street.

Stratton was the first to break the silence by saying softly to himself:

"Yes; wait: the time will come." Again the silence was broken, this
time by a strange hurrying, rustling sound behind the wainscot, followed
by a dull thud.

"What's that?" said Guest sharply. "That? Oh, only the rats. There
are plenty in this old house."

"Ugh! Brutes."

"They only have runs behind the panelling. They never come into the
rooms."

There was another silence before Guest spoke. "Mal, old chap," he said,
"I'm a miserable, impatient beast. You are quite right; I'm in my
ordinary senses once more. Edie speaks just as you do, and she's as
wise a little thing as ever stepped. We must wait, old man; we must
wait."

Malcolm Stratton waited till one evening, when fortune favoured him for
the moment once again. It was by accident that he found Myra alone. He
had heard the tones of the piano as he went up to the drawing room in
Bourne Square, and his heart had begun to beat wildly and then its
pulsations grew to throbs and bounds, as he went in, to find her alone
and playing softly in the half light.

She did not cease, but her fingers strayed on over the keys, and once
more as his arm rested upon the piano, the chords thrilled through his
very being; and when, without a word, his hands were outstretched to
take her to his breast, she sank upon it with a sigh of relief. At that
moment steps were heard upon the landing, and Edie and Miss Jerrold
entered the room dressed to go to some concert, Sir Mark following
directly after, from the dining room, with Guest.

Myra did not shrink from Stratton till all had seen what had taken
place. Then, gravely crossing to her father, she laid her hands
together upon his breast, while he waited for her to speak.

The words came at last:

"Father, dear, Malcolm has asked me to be his wife."

Sir Mark drew her tightly to him, and held out his hand to Stratton.

"Soon, dear, very soon, but it mus