e as a
sister?"

The face of her who awaited Dr. Lacey's answer was very beautiful, while
tears moistened the long eyelashes, which veiled the large, bright eyes,
and the tones of her voice, now more like Fanny's than ever, thrilled his
every nerve. What wonder, then, that his lips for the first time touched
the polished brow of the tempter, as he said, "It would be no hard task,
Julia, to love you with more than a brother's love."

"One more well-aimed blow," thought Julia, "and I shall have him at my
feet"; but she was mistaken. Between herself and Dr. Lacey there arose the
image of one, the remembrance of whom had a power to prevent the utterance
of words which otherwise might have been spoken.

Abruptly changing the conversation, he drew her rather reluctantly toward
the house, which they reached just in time to hear Florence exclaim, as
she scattered the chessmen over the floor, "Why, Uncle Billy Middleton,
what do you mean? Put yourself up to be played for, and then beat me;
shame, shame."

"What is this all about?" asked Dr. Lacey, having some inkling of the
truth.

"Why," answered Florence, "you see, Mr. Middleton has conceived a fatherly
affection for me, and as he is rather rusty in such matters, he could
think of no better way of proposing than to put himself up as a prize, and
tell me if I beat him in playing chess, he would be mine, or in other
words, make me Mrs. Billy Middleton."

"And who beat?" asked Julia.

"Why, Mr. Middleton was ill-mannered enough to win," said Florence, "but
then, it was such fun to see how desperately he played, for fear I should
get him! Now, Dr. Lacey, I suppose you have been proposing to Julia in the
real old, orthodox way, but that is too common. You must sit down at the
chessboard and let Julia play for you," and she pushed them both toward
the chairs, which she and Mr. Middleton had just vacated.

Julia did not refuse, but Dr. Lacey, freeing himself from Florence, said,
"Excuse me tonight, Miss Woodburn. Perhaps at some other time I will
comply with your request," then bowing, he left the veranda and went to
his own room.

When there he strove to recall the events of the evening, and the words he
had involuntarily spoken to Julia. "Why is it," said he, "that I feel so
uneasy whenever I am alone with her? Is it that I love her and am afraid I
shall tell her so? No, that cannot be. I do not love her; and yet, next to
Fanny, she is more agreeable to me than any one e