hand. What do you think of me in my proposed character as having the
ownership and the care of you?"

"I have never thought of you so," Lois managed to get out. The words
were rather faint, heard, however, as Mr. Dillwyn's hand came just then
adjusting and tucking in her fur robes, and his face was thereby near
hers.

"And now you _do_ think of me so?--What do you say to me?"

She could not say anything. Never in her life had Lois been at a loss
and wrecked in all self-management before.

"You know, it is necessary to say something, that I may know where I
stand. I must either stay or go. Will you send me away? or keep me 'for
good,' as the children say?"

The tone was not without a touch of grave anxiety now, and impatient
earnestness, which Lois heard well enough and would have answered; but
it seemed as if her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth. Mr. Dillwyn
waited now for her to speak, keeping the horses at a walk, and bending
down a little to hear what she would say. One sleigh passed them, then
another. It became intolerable to Lois.

"I do not want to send you away," she managed finally to say, trembling.

The words, however, were clear and slow-spoken, and Mr. Dillwyn asked
no more then. He drove on, and attended to his driving, even went fast;
and Lois hardly knew how houses and rocks and vehicles flew past them,
till the reins were drawn at Mrs. Wishart's door. Philip whistled; a
groom presently appeared from the house and took the horses, and he
lifted Lois out. As they were going up the steps he asked softly,

"Is that _all_ you are going to say to me?"

"Isn't it enough for to-night?" Lois returned.

"I see you think so," he said, half laughing. "I don't; but,
however--Are you going to be alone to-morrow morning, or will you take
another sleigh ride with me?"

"Mrs. Wishart and Madge are going to Mme. Cisco's _matinee_."

"At what o'clock?"

"They will leave here at half-past ten."

"Then I will be here before eleven."

The door opened, and with a grip of her hand he turned away.

CHAPTER XLVII.

PLANS.

Lois went along the hall in that condition of the nerves in which the
feet seem to walk without stepping on anything. She queried what time
it could be; was the evening half gone? or had they possibly not done
tea yet? Then the parlour door opened.

"Lois!--is that you? Come along; you are just in time; we are at tea.
Hurry, now!"

Lois went to her room, wishing that