nutes. The hand moved on, and
the clock pointed to five minutes to eight, before I heard the study
door open, and before the sound of rapidly-advancing footsteps warned me
that George was coming into the room.

His beaming face told the good news before a word could be spoken on
either side. The excess of his happiness literally and truly deprived
him of speech. He stood eagerly looking at us all three, with
outstretched hands and glistening eyes.

"Have I folded up my surplice forever," asked Owen, "or am I to wear it
once again, George, in your service?"

"Answer this question first," interposed Morgan, with a look of grim
anxiety. "Have you actually taken your young woman off my hands, or have
you not?"

No direct answer followed either question. George's feelings had been
too deeply stirred to allow him to return jest for jest at a moment's
notice.

"Oh, father, how can I thank you!" he said. "And you! and you!" he
added, looking at Owen and Morgan gratefully.

"You must thank Chance as well as thank us," I replied, speaking as
lightly as my heart would let me, to encourage him. "The advantage of
numbers in our little love-plot was all on our side. Remember, George,
we were three to one."

While I was speaking the breakfast-room door opened noiselessly, and
showed us Jessie standing on the threshold, uncertain whether to join
us or to run back to her own room. Her bright complexion heightened to
a deep glow; the tears just rising in her eyes, and not yet falling from
them; her delicate lips trembling a little, as if they were still shyly
conscious of other lips that had pressed them but a few minutes since;
her attitude irresolutely graceful; her hair just disturbed enough
over her forehead and her cheeks to add to the charm of them--she stood
before us, the loveliest living picture of youth, and tenderness,
and virgin love that eyes ever looked on. George and I both advanced
together to meet her at the door. But the good, grateful girl had
heard from my son the true story of all that I had done, and hoped, and
suffered for the last ten days, and showed charmingly how she felt it by
turning at once to _me_.

"May I stop at the Glen Tower a little longer?" she asked, simply.

"If you think you can get through your evenings, my love," I answered.
"'But surely you forget that the Purple Volume is closed, and that the
stories have all come to an end?"

She clasped her arms round my neck, and laid her cheek