o her so, and perhaps he was conscious
of some sudden weakness.

'How cold your hands are!' she observed anxiously; 'if you will break
the big coal the fire will burn more brightly.' And as he obeyed her she
continued: 'Ah, now we can see each other! I do dislike a flickering,
uncertain light. Now, will you tell me frankly if you were glad or sorry
when you got my letter?'

He was more prepared now, and his voice was quite steady as he answered
her.

'Mentor has no objection to be catechised, but he wishes to put one
question first. Are you quite content and happy, Audrey?'

'Indeed I am!' turning to him one of the brightest faces he had ever
seen.

'Then, my dear, I am satisfied, too.'

'Oh, but that will not do! You must tell me your own private opinion. I
know you like Cyril--you have always spoken well of him; but are you
sure that in your heart you thoroughly approve my choice?'

She was pressing him close, but he did not flinch; he only turned to her
rather gravely.

'My dear Audrey, there are limits even to Mentor's privileges. When two
people make up their minds to take each other for better, for worse, no
third person has a right to give an opinion. I know little of Mr. Blake,
but I have already a respect for him. I am perfectly sure that in time
we shall be good friends.'

'I hope so--I hope so from my heart!' she returned earnestly. 'You are
very guarded, Michael; and, though you are too kind to say so, I know
you think I have acted rather hastily. Perhaps you would rather I had
waited a little longer; but Cyril was so unhappy, and I--well, I was not
quite comfortable myself. It is so much nicer to have it all settled.'

'Yes, I see.'

'And now everything is just perfect. Oh, Michael, you must not go away
for a long time! I cannot do without you.'

'I hope you don't expect me to believe that?'

'But it is perfectly true, I assure you. Actually, Cyril pretended to be
jealous to-day, because I could think of nothing but your coming home.
He was only teasing me; for of course he understands what we feel for
each other. If you were my own brother, Michael, I could not want you
more. But that is the best of Cyril; he is really so unselfish--almost
as unselfish as you.'

'My dear child,' returned Michael lazily, 'did you ever hear of a
certain philosopher named Diogenes, and how he set off one day, lamp in
hand, to search through the city for an honest man? Really, your remark
makes me inclined t