boy must come to something with such a
head," he had often said in his childhood; and now the belief was
likely to be justified. The face before him was showing the strong,
serious lines of maturity, yet he almost regretted the lost boyishness
as he noted them.

Suddenly Frank looked up. "I am thinking of going away for a week or
so," he announced.

A smile hovered about his father's lips. "May I ask in what
direction?--To see Charlotte?"

Their eyes met. "Yes, to see Charlotte," Francis answered.

"When do you go?"

"Sometime to-morrow."

"I wish you good luck, my son."

"So he, too, has guessed," thought Frank.

When he was alone, he took out a letter which bore evidence of more
than one reading. Its date showed it to be a year old.

"I am going away," the letter said, "to be gone a long
time,--at least a year. By then my fate ought to be
decided. I am trying to hope, as Dr. Baird assures me
I may, trying to live entirely in the present. It is
not easy, but how can I make any plans for the future
when a possible life of helplessness lies before me?
You are generous, and I know you will forgive if this
causes you pain. Forget--everything but that I am
always your friend,

"MARION CARPENTER.

"I have told no one where I am going, as it seems best to make as
complete a break as possible with my life here. Dr. Baird, of course,
knows."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH

A LETTER

"Really, Mrs. Millard, you have treated us very shabbily. It is nearly
a year since you left us."

"Ten months, Judge Russell. You are very kind to say you have missed
me. I had no thought of staying so long when I left, and I am
delighted to be at home again." Mrs. Millard stood in the
drawing-room, as composed and elegant as if she had not arrived from a
three days' railway journey only a few hours before.

It was a summer-like evening, doors and windows were open, and one
after another of the neighbors had dropped in, until Charlotte was
reminded of the evening a year ago when the shop was under discussion.
She felt a little shy in Aunt Caroline's presence, although that lady
was graciousness itself; and Wayland Leigh, who came in with his aunt,
joined her in the corner by the library door and wanted to know what
made her so quiet.

"Quite a party, isn't it?" he said; adding, "but where are Miss Marion
and Miss N