ell, Miss Georgiana, if it is of any support to
you to be told that whatever knowledge or skill I may have is all at the
service of your father, then I am glad to assure you of that fact. I
will do my best for him always. Good-bye, and may it be a happy time
from first to last."

His hand held hers close as he said these words, and continued to hold
it for a moment longer while he gave her a long and intent look. She
felt a strange pang; it was almost as if she could think he was going to
miss her. Yet she knew better. If he missed her it would be only because
he had become accustomed to having her about. No sign of any more
uncommon interest had he ever shown.

Then Stuart, farther down the path, was calling, "Come, George, we're
all but late now"; and she was in the old stage and it was lumbering off
down the road, while neighbours waved from their windows, and Georgiana
strained her eyes to get a last look at the figure on the porch.

On the train she and Stuart somehow found little to say to each other in
the ride of an hour and a half to the city station where the rest of the
party came aboard. Stuart did not catch sight of Miles Channing until
the last minute of the train's stop. He had filled the earlier period of
the ten-minute detention in the station with a hurried talk with
Jeannette, during which Georgiana noted that the two seemed thoroughly
absorbed in each other. It was small wonder, for Jeannette had never
been more radiantly lovely than in the distinguished plainness of her
traveling costume. She seemed very happy as she presumably bargained
with Stuart for letters, and Jimps himself had never looked more
interested in any proposition than in that one.

Suddenly, however, the wait was over. Georgiana turned from greeting
Channing, who had just come aboard followed by a porter with his
luggage, when she heard Stuart's voice in her ear:

"George, is _he_ going?"

"I believe he is," she admitted, trying not to let her colour rise
beneath the accusing expression in his eyes.

"And you didn't mention it?"

"Didn't I? He's Jeannette's and Rosalie's friend, not mine."

"No; he's something more than a friend to you--or means to be. I might
have known he'd work this scheme. It's good-bye to you in earnest then."

"Jimps! Please don't. It's nothing of the sort. I----"

The train began to move. But instead of a hasty leave-taking and a leap
from the steps, James Stuart stood still. "I believe I'll go o