ed sorrow and
perplexity.

"What is to be done?" questioned Mrs. Blake inwardly. "Some one must
break the news to him before he enters the oak parlour."

Dick, in complete ignorance of the effect his words were causing,
wheeled round towards the door and prepared to leave the room, when
Edith stepped forward saying, "Yes; Winnie is in her own sanctum as
usual. Come; I will accompany you there."

The boy stopped in amazement. "What for?" he inquired bluntly; "I
would much rather go alone first."

"Yes, I know," was the confused reply; "but please humour me this
once;" and Edith slipped past him as she spoke.

Dick followed, a little mystified and annoyed; but his amazement
increased when Edith, opening the library door, drew him into that room
and closed the door swiftly behind him.

"Bless my boots! is the girl mad?" ejaculated the boy, turning to the
tables and chairs for sympathy. "I am beginning to wonder if I have
fallen into the clutches of some escaped lunatic. I say, Edith, old
girl, do you take those fits often?"

His sister, however, had no answering smile on her lips, and her voice
shook slightly as she replied, "Dick, please prepare yourself to hear
bad news. You ought to have been told before, but we kept the evil day
as far off as possible. Dear little--" Then she stopped short,
terrified at the expression on her brother's face.

"Don't beat about the bush, Edith," he cried in a voice hoarse with
emotion; "I can bear anything better than suspense. Tell me, is Winnie
dead? But no,"--glancing at his sister's shining garments--"it cannot
be that, thank God;" and he drew a long sigh of relief at this point.

"No, Dick," responded Edith, giving him a glance of warm sympathy,
"but--" and very simply and tenderly she broke the sad tidings to the
agitated boy.

Then there tell on the silence and stillness of the room the sound of a
strong heart's sobs, as Dick, in spite of all his manliness, laid his
head on the table and wept like a little child.

Oh, how often, often in his lonely night-watches had he pictured this
home-coming--dwelling on and gloating over each little detail as a
miser does over his gold, till the whole dream-picture became beautiful
with a golden glory. He saw the tiny, fairy figure flying to meet him,
the quaint gipsy face glowing its joyous welcome, and the great dark
eyes shining their wondrous gladness. He felt the clasp of two soft
arms round his neck, the touch o