own, feeling as though she were in some
placid dream.

The rest of the evening passed very tranquilly. Dr. Ross asked for some
music; he was not in the mood for conversation, so Audrey sang to them
all her favourite songs, while Cyril stood beside her and turned over
the leaves. Now and then they could exchange a word or two.

And just at the last she must needs sing 'Widow Miller,' and as usual
Dr. Ross softly beat time and crooned an accompaniment:

'The sang o' the lark finds the widow asteer,
The birr o' her wheel starts the night's dreamy ear,
The tears o'er the tow-tap will whiles fa' like rain,
Yet there's naebody hears Widow Miller complain.'

'What a sad song, my darling! I should like to hear something more
cheerful,' whispered Cyril, as she finished.

But she did not seem to hear him; she rose from her seat and crossed the
room to the corner where Dr. Ross was sitting.

'That is your favourite song, daddy,' she said, leaning over him.

And as he smiled and nodded, she sat down on the low chair beside him
and looked thoughtfully into the fire.

She roused herself presently to bid Cyril good-bye, and to linger a
moment with him at the door in the starlight.

'I shall not see you until luncheon to-morrow, unless you pass the
window,' he said, with the egotism common to lovers. 'You will think of
me until then, will you not, dear?'

'Of course I shall think of you,' returned Audrey, with her usual
gentleness.

But she seemed to wonder a little at the sudden passion with which Cyril
clasped her to him.

'Good-night, Cyril dear. I shall be very busy all the morning writing
letters; but we can have the walk you propose after four.'

And then she went back to her seat and leant her cheek against her
father's arm, as she looked into the fire again.

'A penny for your thoughts, my child,' observed Dr. Ross, when they had
both been silent for a long time; 'though I suppose I need not ask.'

'I was thinking of Michael,' she returned guiltily. 'Dear old Michael!
how I wish he could be happy, too!' And then she bade them both
good-night and went up to her room, and, strange to say, her last
thought before she fell asleep was to wonder what Michael would say.

The boys marvelled more than once the following morning at their
master's evident abstraction. In spite of his efforts to fix his
attention on Greek verbs and exercises, Cyril's eyes would turn
perpetually to the window; but no