e glad or sorry to see me, Edna?' and I managed to
gasp out the word 'Glad!' And then he took my hand and asked me to come
out of the crowd, and let him talk to me quietly. It seemed to me we
understood each other at once."

"Dear Edna, I congratulate you from my heart."

"Yes, and it is all owing to you; we shall neither of us forget that.
Bessie, you don't half know how good Neville is, how gentle and generous
he has been. He would not let me humble myself, or ask for his
forgiveness. But, oh, he has been so unhappy! His mother has been nearly
dying, poor fellow, and I never knew it; and even now her health is in a
critical state. It is so sad for him, for he dotes on her, and they are
everything to each other. He says if it had happened, and he had not
had me to comfort him, it would almost have broken his heart."

"But he will have you now."

"Yes, and it must be my one thought to make up to him for these wretched
seven months. Do you know, Bessie, he seems more distressed about me
than about himself. He says I am quite altered, so thin and pale. He
said it so gravely that I asked him if I had grown too plain for his
taste; but there--I don't mean to repeat his answer."

"He will soon find out that you are as vain as ever."

"I actually told him so, for he was so depressed at my changed
appearance that I had to make one or two mischievous speeches just to
rouse him, and that did him good; he punished me, though, by pointing
out some of his gray hairs; but he has really grown handsomer, Bessie.
Mamma said so, too, though Neville was never really handsome. Poor
mamma! she is so happy, she has been crying for joy."

The dinner-bell rang at that moment, and they were obliged to break off
their talk. Mr. Sinclair had evidently found Edna's absence irksome, for
he met her with a reproach at her delay; but she answered him so sweetly
that he was mollified in a moment.

It was the happiest evening Bessie had had since Hatty's death; it was
such a relief to see Edna's face bright with smiles, and to hear the
satisfied tones of her voice, and to meet the quiet look of content on
Mr. Sinclair's face. He was not a demonstrative man, and a stranger
would hardly have thought his manner lover-like, but it was evident that
he and Edna understood each other perfectly. After dinner he asked her
to sing for him, and she went to the piano at once.

"This is your favorite song, Neville," she said, looking at him quietly,
and a