was neither beginning nor end. There
was no appellation of love, and no signature. It contained but two
lines. "I will write to you at length to-morrow. This is my first day
in London, and I have been so driven about that I cannot write." That
was all, and it was scrawled on half a sheet of note-paper. Why, at
any rate, had he not called her his dearest Lily? Why had he not
assured her that he was ever her own? Such expressions, meaning so
much, may be conveyed in a glance of the pen. "Ah," she said, "if he
knew how I hunger and thirst after his love!"

She had but a moment left to her before she must join her mother and
sister, and she used that moment in remembering her promise. "I know
it is all right," she said to herself. "He does not think of these
things as I do. He had to write at the last moment,--as he was
leaving his office." And then with a quiet, smiling face, she walked
into the breakfast-parlour.

"What does he say, Lily?" asked Bell.

"What would you give to know?" said Lily.

"I wouldn't give twopence for the whole of it," said Bell.

"When you get anybody to write to you letters, I wonder whether
you'll show them to everybody?"

"But if there's any special London news, I suppose we might hear it,"
said Mrs Dale.

"But suppose there's no special London news, mamma. The poor man had
only been in town one day, you know: and there never is any news at
this time of the year."

"Had he seen Uncle Christopher?"

"I don't think he had; but he doesn't say. We shall get all the news
from him when he comes. He cares much more about London news than
Adolphus does." And then there was no more said about the letter.

But Lily had read her two former letters over and over again at the
breakfast-table; and though she had not read them aloud, she had
repeated many words out of them, and had so annotated upon them that
her mother, who had heard her, could have almost re-written them.
Now, she did not even show the paper; and then her absence, during
which she had read the letter, had hardly exceeded a minute or two.
All this Mrs Dale observed, and she knew that her daughter had been
again disappointed.

In fact that day Lily was very serious, but she did not appear to be
unhappy. Early after breakfast Bell went over to the parsonage, and
Mrs Dale and her youngest daughter sat together over their work.
"Mamma," she said, "I hope you and I are not to be divided when I go
to live in London."

"We shall nev