at Edna says in her letter, that they have decided not to separate;
that means that my mother will take a house at Kensington. Well, I dare
say that will be for the best; but when my mother goes The Grange will
want its mistress."

"It will not want her long," she said very gently, "and Richard, dear,
you have promised not to be impatient. Mother is not ready to part with
me yet. I shall not like to think of you being lonely in that big house;
but it will not be for long."

"And, after all, I shall not be lonely," he returned, for he was not to
be outdone in unselfishness. "I shall be getting the house ready for
you, and the new mare. Oh, and there will be a hundred things to do, and
in the evenings I shall talk to Mac about his new mistress, and he will
look up in my face with his wise, deep-set eyes, as though he understood
every word, and was as glad as I was that October would soon come."

"Poor old Mac!" she exclaimed; and there was a soft color in her face as
she interrupted him. "You must give him a pat from me, and to all the
dear dogs--Leo, and Gelert, and Brand, and Bill Sykes--we must not
forget Bill Sykes--and Tim, and Spot; and tell them--" And then she
stopped and looked at him with a smile.

"What shall I tell them?" he asked coaxingly; "that you will be glad
too, when October comes?"

"If you like," she answered quietly, "you may tell them that; but,
Richard, when I think of the future, it is all like a dream. I cannot
imagine that the dear old Grange is to be my home."

"You will find it very real," he replied. "Think what walks we shall
have on Sunday afternoons, with Bill Sykes and his companions; and when
you go into the drawing-room to make tea, Tim and Spot will not be left
outside."

"Wait a moment, Richard look at that sunset;" and Bessie pointed to the
western heavens, which were bathed in a glow of golden light. They had
reached the end of the wood; a wide stretch of country lay before them.
How still and quiet it was! even the birds' twitterings had ceased.
Bessie's eyes grew soft and wistful; the sunset glories had reminded her
of Hatty in her far-off home.

Down below them lay the bay, like a sea of glass mingled with fire.
"Thank God, all is well with my Hatty!" she thought; and then she turned
to Richard with a gentle smile, and they went slowly back through the
wood again, talking quietly of the days that were to be.

THE END.

Transcriber's Note:

Changes to t