, he wondered, as he looked out on the
sunset--seven, nay, eight months; and as yet there had been no recall.
Had he really expected it? Would it not be as well to go back and plead
his own cause, and see what these months of absence had done for him, or
should he wait a little longer?

Michael's self-imposed exile had not been unhappy. His companion was
congenial to him; the varied scenes through which he had passed, the
historic interest of the cities, had engrossed and interested him; and,
perhaps for the first time, he tasted the delights of a well-filled
purse, as he accumulated art treasures and pictures; but, above all, a
latent hope, to which he gave no voice or title, kept him patient and
cheerful.

'It was too soon; but by and by she will find it out for herself,' he
would say, as he strolled through the galleries, or stood by some
moss-grown fountain to buy flowers from a dark-eyed Florentine girl.

Should he go back with Abercrombie next week, or should he push on
towards Greece and the Holy Land? It was a little difficult to decide,
but somehow Michael never answered that question. Fate took the matter
into her own hands, as she often does when the knot becomes too
intricate for the bungling fingers of poor mortals.

Somehow Audrey became convinced in her own mind that Michael would
certainly accompany his friend back to England. They had started
together; was it likely that Michael would allow him to return alone?
and when March came she began to look anxiously for a letter announcing
this intention.

She was thinking of this one afternoon as she sat talking to her mother.
It was a cold, dreary day, and Audrey had just remarked that no one in
Rutherford would think of leaving their fireside on such an afternoon,
when Geraldine entered, glowing from the cold wind, and looking cosy and
comfortable in her warm furs.

'My dear, what a day to venture out,' remonstrated her mother; 'even
Audrey says the wind is cruel.'

'I am not such a foe to the east wind as Michael is,' returned Geraldine
cheerfully, as she seated herself out of the range of the fire; 'and
Percival never likes me to cosset myself--that is why I never take cold.
By the bye, I heard something about Michael a little while ago. Just as
I was talking to Mrs. Charrington, who should come in but Dora
Abercrombie! You know Dora, Audrey. She is the second one; but she is
not half so good-looking as Gwendoline.'

'She is related to Mrs. Charr