m all," hesitating, "except your brother--he has
gone back to Oxford; they were very well, and sent their love."

"And you saw mother?"

"Yes; what a nice woman she is! I like her so much, and your father too;
they were very kind--kinder than I expected. You are a little like your
mother--at least, I saw a sort of likeness. I never felt more at home
anywhere."

"I am so glad;" and Bessie did look glad. He was quite like himself this
morning; she had got her friend back again. "Did father send me no
other message?" she asked presently.

"No, I believe not; at least, I have no recollection of a message. Miss
Lambert," and here Richard's manner was decidedly nervous, "don't you
wonder what my business was at Cliffe?"

"Why, no," she said, so frankly and innocently that in spite of his
nervousness Richard could not restrain a smile. "I suppose there was
something you wanted."

"Yes, indeed," he replied promptly, for this remark helped him; "and I
wanted it so much that I was obliged to apply to your father."

"Could father help you?" much astonished at this.

"He helped me a great deal. I should not be speaking to you now but for
him. Miss Lambert--Bessie--can't you guess? It is so hard for me to
bring it out. Can't you guess what it was I wanted from your father? I
have never wanted anything so much in my life."

Richard's manner grew so earnest and imploring, that an idea of his
meaning flashed across her with a suddenness that made her giddy; but
she only said very gravely:

"I cannot understand unless you speak out."

"May I speak out, then--may I tell you plainly what I want? It is
yourself, Bessie;" and, in spite of his nervousness, Richard spoke a
few forcible words, very eloquent from their intense earnestness. "I
have cared for you all this time, but I would not obtrude myself on your
trouble; I thought it better to wait."

"It was very kind, very thoughtful of you," replied Bessie, in a low
voice. And then she added, shyly: "This is all new to me. I never
expected this, Mr. Sefton."

"I was afraid not, from your manner; but, Bessie, for my sake you will
think of it now. We have been friends, and now you have grown necessary
to my happiness. I have been very lonely all these years; I shall be
lonelier than ever if you cannot bring yourself to love me." His voice
was so sad that the tears came to Bessie's eyes. She longed to comfort
him; but how was she to be sure of her own mind?

"Will you give m