ling.
The picture was safely in her pocket; she supposed, when she found it,
that she must have placed it there herself. She never had any suspicion
of Bro's presence or his action.

The saw-miller had disappeared. Mrs. Manning supposed that he, in his
turn, had gone to the dock or to the Harding cottage.

When he came in to tea that night he looked strangely, but was able to
account for it.

"Letters from Washington," he said. Then he paused; they looked at him
expectantly. "The idea of the register is not a new one," he added
slowly; "it has already been patented."

"My inheritance is gone, then," said Marion gayly.

She spoke without reflection, being so happy now in the reaction of her
great relief that she was very near talking nonsense, a feminine
safety-valve which she hardly ever before had had occasion to seek.

"Yes," said Bro, a pained quiver crossing his face for an instant. "The
valve also is pronounced worthless," he added in a monotonous voice.

Mother and daughter noticed his tone and his lifeless look; they
attributed it to his deep, bitter disappointment, and felt sorry for
him.

"But the screw, Bro?" said Mrs. Manning.

"That is successful, I believe; the patent is granted."

"I knew it," she replied triumphantly. "Even _I_ could see the great
merits it had. I congratulate you, Bro."

"So do I," said Marion. She would have congratulated anybody that
evening.

"The valve is a disappointment to me," said the man, speaking steadily,
although dully. "I had worked over it so long that I counted upon it as
certain."

Then he rose and went over to the mill.

In the mean time Lawrence Vickery was riding homeward comfortably on the
hand-car, and had no idea that he was supposed to be dead. But he
learned it; and learned something else also from Marion's sensitive,
tremulous face, delicate as a flower. A warm-hearted, impulsive fellow,
he was touched by her expression, and went further than he intended.
That is to say, that, having an opportunity, thanks to Mrs. Manning, who
went up stairs, purposely leaving them alone together, he began by
taking Marion's hand reassuringly, and looking into her eyes, and ended
by having her in his arms and continuing to look into her eyes, but at a
much nearer range. In short, he put himself under as firm betrothal
bonds as ever a man did in the whole history of betrothals.

In the mean time the soft-hearted mother, sitting in the darkness up
stairs, was sh