Guy had more the figure of an athlete, and his quiet, easy manner gave the impression that his passions were well under control. He looked a man to be trusted; there was a firm, yet tender look in his eyes that was not unfelt by the man who sat opposite him. Both were handsome men, though of a different type, but Hugh's face lacked something that could be felt, if not described in the one opposite.

Gussie's shrill voice in the hall gave Dexie an opportunity to leave the room, and she hastened to do so, as something had evidently gone wrong, and Gussie was protesting and scolding in audible tones, though the words were not intelligible.

"Hush! Gussie! someone is with papa. What is the trouble?"

"Who is it? Is it company of yours that Eliza is so flurried over that she cannot attend to me?"

"Mr. McNeil has arrived, Gussie; don't let him hear you talk like that."

"Oh! he has come at last, has he? Well, it's high time! How long is he going to stay, Dexie?"

But her questions remained unanswered, for Dexie was talking to her mother on domestic matters, and presently they all assembled in Mr. Sherwood's room.

Gussie soon noticed how intently Hugh was watching Guy Traverse, and she made up her mind to "tell Hugh a thing or two" regarding Dexie's behavior, for since the night Gussie had decided in her own mind about Dexie's ring she saw there was an unexpected intimacy between her sister and this engaged young man. She wondered how it happened that Guy was present at that hour; it would complicate matters with Dexie, surely, but to her surprise she found herself paired off with Hugh as they went to the supper table.

"You should have returned long ago, Hugh," she whispered. "Dexie has developed into a desperate flirt! Just now it is Mr. Traverse, as you can see for yourself, though she is aware he is engaged to a lady in the city."

"Gussie, are you sure of what you are saying? Is this only a flirtation?"

"Well, I don't see what else you can call it."

"Do you think she has given me up? I have come on purpose to find out."

"Oh! is that all you have come for? Why, I thought it was a settled thing between you. Then she must be going to marry you just for your money! and now that I think of it, she said as much," said Gussie bluntly.

There was no chance for further conversation, but Gussie's words raised all sorts of questions in Hugh's mind, and he watched the couple on the opposite side of the table, his hopes and fears alternately rising.

Dexie's manner bore out her father's statement, but how was it that Gussie looked at the matter so differently.

As they rose from the table Guy stood for a moment talking to Mrs. Sherwood, but Hugh crossed over at once to the window where Dexie was standing, bending over some flowers.

In his quick, eager tone, Hugh asked:

"Will you give me a few minutes alone, Dexie, when I have come so far on purpose to see you?"

"I am sorry to hear that request, Mr. McNeil, as it forces me to seem rude when I would prefer to be cordial. Do not let us renew our old antagonism."

"Dexie, I think, if it ever existed, it has given place to a better feeling. My heart has been starving for a sight of your face, and you have grown so beautiful that it is hard to resist the temptation to take you in my arms."

Dexie shrank away from him, and she gave a quick look at Guy, who was still talking to her mother, but his smile reassured her. She knew he would soon be at her side.

"Don't leave me, Dexie," Hugh entreated. "I will not touch you, so do not he afraid of me. Do you know I have come as fast as I could travel, just to see you face to face as I do now. Yet I have a further hope in my heart, Dexie, for Lancy is not between us now."

Dexie's heart beat too fast to allow of a reply, and Hugh added:

"You can guess how glad I was to hear that you and Lancy were friends only, and from what Gussie tells me there is hope for me yet. Is it so, Dexie?"

"You must not put any faith in Gussie's stories, Mr. McNeil," Dexie managed to reply. "I am aware she is resting under a delusion, but I did not take the trouble to convince her of the fact. I was hoping I should not have to tell you what is surely plain to yourself," blushing as she gave a meaning glance in Guy's direction.

"Then your father was right! I have come too late! Is that what you wish me to believe? Think a minute, Dexie, before you say what will rob me of all hope!" and he bent his head in his eagerness to read her answer in her truthful face.

"If papa told you I was engaged to Mr. Traverse, he told you the truth," Dexie said, in a low tone.

"But do you love him, Dexie? Are you sure your heart is given with your hand? I was right in Lancy's case, you know."

As he spoke, Guy came over to her side, and she laid her hand on his arm, and looked into his face with such trust upon her own that Hugh felt she had answered his question.

"Mr. McNeil, I am not naturally jealous," said Guy, pleasantly, "but if my little wife is making love to you here, I'm afraid there is danger that I shall grow that way," and he laid his arm across Dexie's shoulder, and smiled at them both.

Dexie looked over her shoulder at this declaration, and was surprised to find there was no one in the room except themselves, but Guy had brought this about in order to announce their engagement to Hugh.

"Unfortunately for me, the love-making is only on my side," said Hugh, bitterly. "I cannot win even one word of kindness from Dexie's lips; my very presence seems unwelcome. She has just given me to understand that she belongs to you, and I am expected, I suppose, to offer my congratulations; but I cannot do it—I must get used to the thought first. I am not afraid or ashamed to confess that I have loved Dexie Sherwood for years—loved her madly, blindly, though she has given me nothing but hard words and scornful looks through it all. Months of travel have failed to make me forget her. She has been like a loadstone drawing me back to her, when in my pride I would have rejoiced to feel myself free. I would have plucked her out of my heart if I could, but my love seems a part of my life, and I cannot kill it while I live myself. I believe you are a noble, generous man, or you never would have won her heart. Be good to her, since you have taken her from me, for if I thought there should ever be a time when you would cause a tear to fall or grieve her heart by a word, I would kill you where you stand!"

Dexie hid her face against Guy's breast as Hugh's hot words poured like a torrent from his lips, but Guy drew her protectingly to his side, and his firm, clear voice sounded low and distinct as he replied:

"Have no fear for Dexie, Mr. McNeil! She shall always be my first thought and care. I cannot blame you for loving her, though it is but natural that, under the present circumstances, I should regret to hear you own it. Dexie has given me her love willingly and freely, and I am sure she will be happy as my wife, the present condition of her father being the only obstacle that prevents our immediate marriage."

"Forgive me, Traverse! my words were hasty!" and Hugh held out his hand, "but my heart is sore at the disappointment. I have hastened forward with all possible speed, hoping for something so different from this, that my heart rebels. But I shall go back to Halifax, Dexie, and the day I hear of your marriage I shall propose to Nina Gordon. I wish to my heart she was dumb! I might persuade myself into thinking sometimes that I had you near me, if only she would keep her mouth shut! If I cannot have your love, I may be able to delude myself into thinking that I have your presence near me occasionally."

"Oh, Mr. McNeil! you cannot mean what you are saying! You surely would not do such a thing as that!" said Dexie, in a horrified tone. "Your good sense will prevent you from throwing your life away so needlessly. Oh! I cannot think that you have a thought of such a thing. It would be dreadful!" and the dark eyes met his with an eagerness that was questioning.

"I heard you say once that if she were away from her mother one might make anything they liked of her," said he, more quietly. "I shall make a second Dexie of her if the thing is possible, for I'll see to it that she keeps her tongue quiet till it suits her face!"

This was uttered in such a tone that Dexie shuddered. His outbursts of passion seemed less devilish than this quieter expressed determination, for it was accompanied with a glint in his eyes that reminded her forcibly of that memorable boat sail, and her voice was less firm as she replied:

"I cannot think you are in earnest, Mr. McNeil; you would not wreck another's life for merely an unfortunate resemblance! No! I cannot think it of you; but it is wicked to say it, even in jest!"

"Would you take even that small comfort from me?" he said, almost fiercely. "Do you know what love is, and think that I can bear the burden of solitude that you have laid upon my life; even the solace of your shadow denied me, while you have everything!"

"There! I think you two had better say no more," Guy firmly though smilingly remarked. "You will be quarrelling in earnest the first thing I know. Of course I do not understand what all this means, Mr. McNeil, but I have such confidence in Dexie's judgment that I join her in the request that you will do nothing hasty, and throw the best years of your life away because of this disappointment. Come, shake hands, you two, and make it up, and let us join Mr. Sherwood in his room, or he will think we have shared the fate of the Kilkenny cats."

Dexie held out her hand and Hugh clasped it in both his own, and, looking tenderly into her eyes, said, in a voice so changed that it seemed to come from other lips:

"Forget my hasty words, Dexie, if they have hurt you, and try to think of me kindly sometimes. We would have been better friends if I had loved you less. I give you up, though most unwillingly, for I cannot say now as I did before that your heart has not awakened, for I see that it has, beyond a doubt," and like a courtier of old he stooped and kissed her hand.

Gussie was full of curiosity concerning the interview; but when the little group appeared in the room, their faces told no tales that she could interpret.

Hugh looked more sober than usual, and listened to the conversation rather than joined in it. Guy looked cool and composed and, maybe, a trifle triumphant. Dexie looked rather paler than usual, and remained almost as silent as Hugh. This might mean much or little, but something in the manner of each checked Gussie's light chatter.

When Guy rose to go, Hugh rose also, and asked permission to accompany Guy to his hotel. Then, promising to return the next day to see Mr. Sherwood, Hugh followed Guy from the room.

At a look from Guy, Dexie followed them into the hall, and while Hugh put on his coat and gloves, Guy said, in a tender, reassuring tone, as he smiled into her anxious face, "Do not be alarmed, dearest; there will be no shooting, I promise. You can trust your friend with me, and I will see after his comfort; so good-bye till to-morrow, love."

He bent his head and kissed her, though he was aware that a pair of dark eyes were watching his every movement.

Hugh was very silent as he walked along. The kindly-spoken "Good-night, Mr. McNeil," did not make him feel his disappointment less keenly.

When the hotel was reached and his room engaged, Hugh turned to Guy, saying:

"May I go with you to your room for a little while? I shall go away to-morrow, I think, and I would like to have a talk with you if you have no objection."

"Certainly! I shall be glad of your company," and Guy led the way to his room.

"It is no use, Traverse," he said, as Guy tried to draw him into a conversation on matters in general. "I have no thoughts but for one thing, and am no company for any man, least of all you; but I want to ask a favor of you. Tell me of your plans for the future, and let me help you, even in the smallest way, to bring them about. I coveted wealth at one time, thinking if I had it all else would come easy; but I have found my money a burden, because I could not put it to the one use for which I longed to possess it. Do not be offended, Traverse," for Guy was looking at him intently, and with a puzzled face; "what I want to say, I say with a good heart towards you. In business matters, you know, money alone is power. Is there anything that money could do for you—any position it could procure for you, which would give Dexie pleasure to see you fill? I am sure you are ambitious—in your position I would be myself; so tell me your hopes and plans, and let me help you." "You are most kind, Mr. McNeil, and I thank you for your generous offer," and he held out his hand, which Hugh clasped heartily. "I was not prepared for this, but expected to hear reproaches heaped upon me. I see I did not know you. I am deeply sensible of the kind thought that suggested this; but I have no need of the help you so kindly offer. I own to being ambitious, but it is the want of brains more than money that hampers me at present. Yes," as Hugh looked up inquiringly, "I am of an inventive turn of mind, and if I can work out the problems that are hatching in my brain I will win fame as well as money. Your offer is none the less kind because I cannot accept it. I am sure it will give Dexie much pleasure to hear of your kindness."

"You do not wish me to have any share in your happiness," Hugh said, with downcast features. "Well, I daresay I would feel the same myself were I in your place; but, be generous, Traverse. Think how long I have loved her, before you ever saw her at all, and contrast the blank my life will be with the happiness in store for you in the future. Let me do something for you, Traverse."

"Believe me, McNeil, if there was anything you could do for me I would gladly accept it, if only by way of atonement—not that I think that I alone stood in your way, but for the pleasure I know it would be to you to serve her or hers. My position is better than most men of my age, and since I have won Dexie's hand I have frequently thought there is nothing more I require to make me contented and happy."

There was a few minutes' silence, when Hugh asked, with a perceptible paleness in his dark face,

"When do you expect to be married?"

"She will not leave home while her father lives; whether we shall be married while he is so ill, I cannot say. Much depends on circumstances. Her father is a very sick man, though owing to his cheerfulness the fact is not apparent to everyone."

The conversation was carried on until the clock struck the midnight hour. Hugh seemed to lay bare his heart to his successful rival, and Guy listened in surprise to the account of his many efforts to win Dexie's favor, even so far as to tell of the unfortunate boat sail and its consequences.

Guy's heart was full of pity as he listened. How much Hugh loved her when, in spite of the rebuffs and scornful refusals, he could be so blinded by passion as to dare attempt to win a promise by such rash and desperate means! Dexie's love for himself seemed all the greater since it had stood such a siege from this fierce, passionate man, and Guy wondered no longer that Dexie was alarmed when she heard of his coming.

When Hugh mentioned what Gussie had said of the "city girl," Guy could not help smiling, and explaining the circumstances that gave rise to the story, added:

"I believe it was one of your letters that Gussie captured that night, Mr. McNeil; but as I played the lover and claimed the letter, Gussie felt obliged to believe me, and my imaginary city girl has kept her quiet ever since."

"I can well believe the distress Dexie felt when she heard the letter read aloud. You did a kind act that not one in a hundred would have dared to do. No wonder she loves you. But away so far from her, it seemed that I could not bear my life if I did not tell her, even on paper, what was in my heart. I am glad to know you, Traverse; if I cannot win her myself, it is a comfort to know she is in such good keeping."

At last Hugh rose to go, and the hands of the accepted and the rejected lover met in a warm, friendly grasp.

The next day when Hugh made his appearance at Mr. Sherwood's, and made known the fact that he had spent the forenoon with Guy at his office, Dexie looked her surprise, but she blushed with pleasure to hear his words of praise when speaking of her lover.

Hugh remained several days in Lennoxville, but he seldom made his appearance at the house unless in company with Guy.

Gussie could not understand this at all, but her spiteful remarks were so wide of the mark that they were only amusing.

She needed no one to tell her that Hugh was as much in love with Dexie as ever, yet why he allowed Guy Traverse to monopolize her was a mystery that was incomprehensible.

Hugh spent the last evening of his stay at the Sherwoods', and, in spite of Gussie's raillery, he was silent and sad; even Guy could not rouse him into cheerfulness.

During the evening he obtained a few minutes' conversation with Mr. Sherwood, and his low, earnest words brought a mist to the eyes of the sick man.

"I am truly sorry for your disappointment, Hugh," was the low reply, "but you prove beyond a doubt that her happiness is still dear to you when you propose to do such a thing. But wait awhile, and think it over. You may form other ties, and there may be others who will have a stronger claim on you than the wife of Guy Traverse. Oh, yes! yes! I know the money is your own, and you can do what you like with it, but Dexie would not approve of this, neither would Traverse."

A few minutes before it was time to leave for the train Guy came behind Hugh and whispered a few words in his ear, words that sent a flash of light and joy into his dark, sad face.

"God bless you, Traverse, for this kindness; I was getting desperate; five minutes will suffice," was the reply, and he slipped out of the room, crossed the hall, and a moment more was standing by Dexie's side.

"Traverse told me you were here, Dexie, and that I might come and say good-bye to you alone," and taking her hands in his own, added:

"Dexie, if there should come a time when you need a friend, or if you should ever be in trouble, will you promise to let me know and let me be the one to help you? You know how gladly I would serve you."

"Thank you, Mr. McNeil, you are very kind; I will not forget your offered help. I hope you will have a pleasant journey home," and she drew away her hands and turned away.

"Dexie, when we parted in Halifax you gave me angry looks, even at the moment of parting, but there was a hope in my heart that helped me to bear it. It is different now; do not add to my present misery the memory of your cool, indifferent words. Lift up your face and say, 'Good-bye, Hugh.' Do, Dexie."

Dexie stood irresolute a moment, then, giving him her hand, she lifted her eyes, and said in a low tone:

"Good-bye, Hugh; I did not mean to be cool or indifferent, for you have been kinder than I dared to expect."

Something in her tone and words swept Hugh's self-control to the winds, and he clasped her to his heart.

"My darling! my darling! must I indeed say good-bye forever; it is like parting with you at the grave," and his hot kisses touched cheek and brow. "I cannot bear it, Dexie. Oh! if I could die now with you here in my arms; my darling! my darling!"

A soft knock at the door, and a moment later Guy entered.

"Time is up, McNeil, if we want to catch the train." Then putting his arm across Dexie's shoulders, as he noticed her pale face and quivering lips, said:

"Has it been too much for you, dearest? It was the last time, you know."

"How could you, Guy! How could you send him here to me alone!" came the low, trembling words.

"It was no use, Traverse; the first kind word unmanned me, and made me forget that you trusted me. I have held her in my arms and kissed her face; but forgive me, Traverse, if you can, it is the last time," and giving a long, imploring look at Dexie, who stood with her face buried in her hands, added, in a low voice:

"I am ready, Traverse; let us go at once, and may God help me to get over this," and with his arm drawn through Guy's they both walked out into the night.



CHAPTER XLII.

One morning when Dexie was out in the back garden whistling like a bird, and busy about some domestic matters, someone outside the high fence called:

"Georgie! I say, Georgie! come here a minute."

No answer being received, a shower of small pebbles came over the fence, and the call was repeated.

Thinking it was Mark Perrin, a wild young lad with whom Georgie was forbidden to associate, Dexie called out:

"Go away from here at once, you torment, or you'll get your jacket dusted for you," and hastening to the gate as if eager to perform the operation, she found Guy Traverse awaiting the promised punishment.

Astonishment rendered her silent for a moment, when she laughingly exclaimed:

"For pity sake, Guy! was it you threw the pebbles?"

"Yes, and am I to believe that it was you who was whistling?"

"Well, as you took me for Georgie, it must have been well done, so I'll own to the whistling; but what brings you here so early in the morning? I am not dressed for visitors at this hour," and she glanced down at her short frock, that revealed a neat foot and well-turned ankle; then pulling forward the sun-bonnet that had fallen back from her head, added:

"This is the latest style. I hope you admire it."

"I do, indeed," and his face filled the front of it for a moment.

"Oh! do come in till I shut the gate; someone might see us. Now, what do you want with Georgie, if I may ask?" and she lifted a saucy face to his.

"I didn't want him particularly, but I thought it was he who was whistling, and I was going to ask him to look for you, but as it is your own sweet self, so much the better, for I want to speak to you here a minute."

"But why here, at the back gate?"

"I wanted to ask if you would drive into the country with me, as I have to go on a matter of business."

"Then why didn't you go to the front door and ask me properly, sir?"

"Well, I am going to, just as soon as I find out if you can come or not. You were up part of the night with your father, and I did not know but you were resting or too busy to come with me. In that case, Gussie might feel it her duty to accompany me."

"Oh, I see! I shall be most happy to accept your invitation, Mr. Traverse; so go around to the front door and ask me like a gentleman."

Shutting the gate after him, she entered the house, intending to have a little fun over the invitation.

His ring at the door was answered by Gussie, and Mr. Sherwood, who was dozing on his couch, brightened at once as he saw who was the visitor.

"A splendid morning, Traverse," was his greeting. "You are early to-day."

"Yes, I have called to see if you could spare Dexie for a drive with me this morning."

"Certainly. Gussie, hunt her up."

"Dexie is very busy this morning, papa," Gussie replied, "but I am at leisure, Mr. Traverse, if you are looking for company."

"Busy, is she?" said Mr. Sherwood; "then go and relieve her, Gussie, for she has been up half the night and needs a rest," and raising his voice, called:

"Dexie, Dexie; come here."

Dexie was standing outside the door waiting for this summons, and she entered the room, her head still enveloped in the enormous sun-bonnet, her arms bare to the elbow, and her whole appearance proclaiming her a busy little woman.

"Did you call me, papa?" and she stepped to his side.

The contrast between them was too painful, and Gussie blushed with embarrassment, and hastily exclaimed:

"Leave the room, Dexie, Mr. Traverse is here."

"Where!" and the scoop-like bonnet was turned in his direction.

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Traverse. Excuse my toilet, but we wash sometimes at our house, and this is one of the times. Fine morning this for washerwomen. Now, what do you want of me, papa?" and she turned leisurely to her father again, much to Gussie's horror.

"Well, Traverse called to take you for a drive, but I doubt if he will care to ask you after seeing you in such a rig."

"This is not my carriage dress, my dear papa, but my working suit; but seeing that Mr. Traverse has been talking to me at the back gate in this very rig and survived the shock, I trust the second sight won't prove disastrous. If you say you can spare me, I'll promise not to appear in this costume in public. Thanks, papa. How soon do you wish to start, Mr. Traverse?"

"In half an hour, if possible," was the smiling answer.

"You will find me waiting your appearance," and making a sweeping, old-fashioned courtesy, she pulled her bonnet forward with a jerk and danced out of the room.

Traverse looked after her with a smile, and with a few pleasant words to Mr. Sherwood, and a polite "good-morning" to Gussie, he bowed himself out.

As soon as Guy was beyond hearing, Gussie's ill-humor found vent. She did not see why Dexie should leave her work to go about the country with young men, and Traverse must have regretted his invitation when he caught sight of Dexie's ridiculous figure, her dress to the top of her boots and a sun-bonnet that would disgrace a country-woman! But one never knew what Dexie would do next. Awhile ago she could scarcely speak a civil word to Mr. Traverse, but now that she knows he expects to be married, her manner is just the reverse. Reproaches like these fell on Mr. Sherwood's ears unheeded, but a kindly smile lit up his face when Dexie made her appearance, looking as dainty as if right out of a band-box, and as she drew on her gloves a handsome buggy drove up to the door.

Giving her father a hasty kiss, she whispered:

"I wish you were able to go in my place," then ran down the steps, and a few minutes later the high-spirited horse carried them out of sight.

They did not return for some hours, and Dexie enjoyed the little excursion exceedingly; she was grieved to find on her return that her father had spent a very sick day, and she regretted leaving him for her own pleasure.

"You needed the change, my dear," her father assured her. "You are losing your roses by waiting on me so constantly, and this hand is thinner than it was six months ago," and he patted the hand that rested in his own.

Mr. Sherwood was daily growing weaker, and had to keep his bed the greater part of the time. The old pain returned oftener, and was so very severe while it lasted that it kept them all in a constant state of alarm. This so worked on Mrs. Sherwood's nerves that her fancied illness threatened to develop into something not quite so imaginative, and she required almost as much care as her husband. It became necessary for Gussie to spend a part of her time in her mother's room, and this she disliked very much, for Mrs. Sherwood was not a patient sufferer, and Gussie chaffed and fretted against the restraint to her liberty. Her extreme selfishness was so apparent that her mother received her half-hearted services with little thanks.

The constant care and attention which divided Dexie's time between her father's and her mother's room made it very hard to keep domestic matters running smoothly, and Gussie's obstinate refusal to take any part of the labor of the household or care of the children upon her own shoulders, gave Dexie little chance to get the rest she needed. This was telling on her health, and she was fast losing her rounded cheeks, and her eyes began to look so large and black that it made Guy's heart ache to look at her. He wished to tell Mrs. Sherwood of their engagement, and even attempted to persuade Dexie into marrying him at once, so that he would have the right to protect her against some of the needless burdens that were put upon her young shoulders, but Dexie would not hear of it.

"Mother is aware that I expect to be married by and by; if she is making a mistake as to the man let it be for the present. Were the truth known, my life would be unbearable. It is all I can do to keep the true state of affairs from coming to papa's ears, and he has enough to bear without family troubles being put upon him."

"My dear little girl, do you think I am going to let you stay here and be at the beck and call of everyone? Let me claim you at once; that will be the best way to settle the difficulty, and your father would say the same if he knew about it."

"But he must not know it, Guy; think how unhappy it would make him. It would never do, dear; but I have a good mind to write and ask Louie to come home. Surely aunt would let her come for a few weeks. I have written to her about it before, but she would not let her come unless she was positively needed, and I do think she is now. She must be quite a young lady by this time, and would be such a help and comfort. I believe I will write and ask her again."

That night, while Dexie sat up with her father, the letter was written, and Guy dropped it in the letter-box on his way home, and in less than a week, to Dexie's great joy, Louie came rushing into the house, as fresh and strong as any little country lassie.

Her coming did, indeed, make a great difference in the house, as Dexie expected. She brought such a new atmosphere into it with her quick, outspoken criticisms, that she worked quite a revolution.

Then she had so much that was new to tell them all, and it was told in such a breezy way, that her father brightened up as he listened. Her aunt had not sent her empty-handed either, for she had a loving and tender heart under a rather harsh exterior, the cold looks with which all sentiment was frowned down seemed but the rough, hard shell which covered a noble and generous disposition. But this rather severe aunt had refused Louie permission to make many visits at her father's home, on account of the displeasure with which she regarded her mother. She had never been pleased at her brother's marriage, and when Louie had been given over to her care she determined to cut off all connection with the mother's influence. Dexie's letter had revealed more than she was aware to the keen, sharp-sighted woman, and Louie was sent to help wait on her father, with many admonitions as to her conduct at home. She was given a "month's leave of absence," as Louie laughingly expressed it, but when alone with Dexie she admitted that her aunt would extend the time if her father should seem to be near the end.

Louie was very practical in many things, wasting little sentiment on trifles, and Mrs. Sherwood reaped the benefit of Louie's strict bringing up, which she had received at the hands of her aunt.

"Now, mother," she said one day, as she displayed some of the handsome garments her aunt had provided her with, "do try and get well as quickly as you can. I have only a month to stay, and I brought these dresses to wear, and I cannot do that if I am to be a nurse for you. I will get everything, and do everything for you, that you really need, but I cannot run up and down stairs all the time on useless errands. I can't think how Dexie has a foot left to stand on, the way she is called hither and thither. Of course, she must have a rest, now that I am home, or she will be laid up, and that would be a calamity for this house, I fancy. Now, you sit up, and I'll brush your hair and fix you up so nice that you will long to get downstairs to the rest of us, for I am going to spend the next hour with papa," and she bustled about the room and set everything in order to her mother's hand.

To the surprise of the family, Mrs. Sherwood made her appearance downstairs before Louie had been in the house a week; and as she continued to improve, Louie quietly ordered an easy carriage to be at the door at a certain hour, and when that hour arrived she made her appearance in such becoming attire that she had little trouble to induce her mother to step into the carriage with her, and as these outings became quite frequent they soon had a beneficial effect on her mother's health and spirits.

Louie's home-coming made a difference that was quite remarkable in Gussie also. She took so much for granted that Gussie was constrained to exert herself. It was rather amusing to watch Gussie's face when Louie would say, as they rose from the breakfast table:

"Now, Gussie, come on. I'm not going to be a mere visitor, you know; so I'll help you set the rooms in order. You will be no time over them, with my help;" and not wishing it to be known that all such things were left to Dexie, she would follow Louie, and join in the task for very shame sake.

But Dexie enjoyed Louie's visit more than anyone, for she not only kept Gussie's hands employed, but her presence forbade the continual fault-finding which she had hitherto freely indulged in; for Louie was a person of some consequence, being the heiress of considerable property, as well as possessor of a bank book that she was at liberty to use at her own discretion, and this had much influence over Gussie.

Louie soon remarked the frequent visits of Guy Traverse, but was puzzled at first to account for them. Gussie had told her that he was engaged to a young lady in the city, and was only a particular friend of her father's; but this did not prevent Louie from forming her own opinion on the matter.

She asked her mother one day, as she brushed out her hair, how it was that her father had become so attached to such a young man, and if there were not some other reason to account for his frequent visits.

"He was with your father when he was hurt, and your father thinks he saved his life at the risk of his own, so I daresay that may account for the attachment. I did hope at one time that Gussie might be able to secure him; they would make a nice-looking couple. I have thought sometimes that he pays Dexie sufficient attention to warrant her in thinking he means something serious, but Hugh McNeil has some claim on her; he has been to see her lately. You remember he had quite a fortune left him. I expect she will keep a fine establishment when she is married. But I know nothing about her affairs; she was always close-mouthed, and she is sure to do something entirely different from what you expect."

"But, mamma, this Mr. Traverse seems to be more than just friendly to Dexie. I am sure he is with her every chance he gets."

"Oh! that is nothing; he is seldom in her company outside of her father's room. Besides, he is going to be married to someone in the city. He said as much before us all. I am sure Dexie does not care for him in that way. If you had heard the way she used to talk to him, you would see at once that his visits mean nothing to her."

"Nevertheless, mother, I have my suspicions," said the quick-witted girl, as she left the room.

"I'll corner Dexie sometime, see if I don't," she said to herself. "If there is any love-making going on in this house, it will be a funny thing if I do not find it out!"

But Dexie was well aware that there were a sharp pair of eyes about, and it took considerable manoeuvring to get a word with Guy without having Louie pounce in upon them at the most unexpected moment.

"Seems to me, Dexie," she said one day, as they were in their chamber dressing for the afternoon, "if I was Mr. Traverse's young lady in the city," and she made a grimace, "I would not care to have my young man visit so much in a house where there are marriageable young ladies. Do you think she is aware of his frequent visits here?"

"What lady do you refer to, Louie?" turning from the mirror, where a blushing face was too freely reflected.

"You know who I mean well enough! The lady that Gussie says he is going to marry. I suppose you know that story as well as Gussie."

"Oh, yes; it is quite an old thing now. I have had it dinned into my ears till I am tired, both of the story and the lady as well," she carelessly replied.

"Oh, indeed!" said the laughing girl. "I suppose he has told you all about her during one of your many interviews. When is the wedding to take place?"

"The exact time was never mentioned, Louie. If you feel very curious about it, why not ask Mr. Traverse yourself. He might give you an invitation to the wedding, you know."

"But, honestly, Dexie, does he ever talk to you about his future wife?"

"Certainly! why shouldn't he? Didn't Gussie tell you that he announced his approaching marriage before the whole family?"

"Well, Dexie Sherwood, you can smile and smile and be—the young lady yourself, after all," said Louie, not yet convinced, "and that ring looks new, and I see no photograph of Hugh McNeil lying inside your favorite book, so there!"

"Well, you might have seen one in the album if you had looked for it, you silly girl. And how many new rings has Gussie had since you were home, and yet I hear no word of her engagement!"

"That may be, my dear sister Dexie; but I have not seen any young man kiss Gussie good-bye at the door, either; therefore I begin to think—"

What her thoughts might be upon the matter, Dexie did not give her time to express, but disappeared from the room as suddenly as if the cry of "Fire" had been raised in the house.

"Well, I may be mistaken; then, again, I may not," said Louie, reflectively, as she found herself alone, "but appearances point to the latter view. However, auntie says that 'circumstantial evidence is not positive proof,' so I will wait for further developments. If it is so—all right; if it is not so, well—then I think they should not be quite so familiar when Dexie shows him out. He is quite a handsome young gentleman and will make a distinguished-looking brother-in-law, and I am ready with my approval and blessing as soon as they ask for it; but, by the way things look to me, my approval and blessing have not been waited for."

When Dexie entered her father's room, she found Mr. Hackett, the lawyer, present, and she was about to withdraw when her father called her to his side.

"You will have to go over the papers in the desk with Mr. Hackett, Dexie," he said. "There are one or two missing which I know I have put somewhere in safety, so look carefully, dear; the loss of them would be rather serious in a case that Mr. Hackett has yet to settle. In case I have not mentioned it before, Mr. Hackett," and he turned towards the lawyer, "the old desk with all its contents, excepting those bundles relating to business matters, which you will take with you, belong to Dexie, here. There are several unfinished manuscripts which you can easily finish yourself, Dexie, and who knows but the beginning of your fame and fortune may be lying there waiting for you in the old ink-stained desk. There, do not cry, Dexie! It grieves me to see you fretting. You would not like to have your poor father lying here suffering much longer, surely! Now, be my brave, helpful little woman a little while longer, and help Mr. Hackett all you can. I was speaking of the old desk, Dexie; do not part with it to anyone, dear. Keep it as my last gift to you, and, if it ever needs repairing, have it done under your own eyes. Do not forget this, Dexie."

Dexie winked away her tears, and bent over to arrange his pillows more comfortably, saying:

"Do you want me to hunt up the papers now, papa? I will do so at once, if Mr. Hackett will explain what they are about."

"He will help you, then you can get through more quickly. You had better explain to my daughter, Mr. Hackett, about the amount of income there will be in the future. She is the housekeeper here, though I expect she will not remain in that position very long after I am gone. I am glad I purchased this property when we first moved here. It is increasing in value every year, and, if they should ever find it necessary, they can sell it and be comfortable in a smaller place, but this will not be needful for some years, if things are properly managed. There is another thing, Mr. Hackett, which I wish you would see about for them. Look around and find a respectable middle-aged couple that will be capable of giving the necessary help about the house and grounds. The place needs a man around it to keep it in order, and if his wife looked after the work in the house they would give better satisfaction than single people, I fancy. I cannot think what they will do when Dexie has left the house," and he sighed heavily.

When Mr. Hackett departed with the missing papers, Mr. Sherwood called her to his side and explained many things which would have to be seen to after his death, and Dexie sat and listened with quivering lips and hands clasped, palms downwards, across her lap, in an agony of mind, until she fell on her knees beside his couch, crying, "Oh! papa! dear papa! what shall I do without you!"

Her father stroked the ruffled hair and soothed her by his tender words till her tears flowed less freely and her sobs were checked, when he added:

"Now, I want to speak of yourself, Dexie. Do not keep Traverse waiting for you after I am gone. He has been very patient, and it has been on my account that he has waited so long for you. I am not blind to the trouble which you have borne so bravely and quietly these few months back; you have had little time to prepare anything for your new life, as most girls like to do, but this shall be made up to you, my dear. I have thought sometimes I would ask you to have your marriage performed here before me, but I will not be so selfish; that should be the happiest hour of a woman's life, and it would not be so to you under such circumstances. Louie has brightened the house by her coming, but she will soon be returning to her aunt, and then I am afraid you will find it harder than ever, my dear little Dexie."

Mrs. Sherwood came into the room, and finding Dexie sobbing on her father's pillow, was much alarmed.

"What is it? Are you worse, Clarence?" she cried, hysterically.

"No, no, dear wife, not that. But I have been giving Dexie some directions regarding matters after I am gone, and it makes her feel badly, poor little girl! She has been a good daughter to us, wife; so do not forget it when she needs your help and sympathy, and that time may be nearer than you think."

Dexie could bear no more, but she must not grieve her father by her tears; so rose hurriedly, and kissing his brow, left the room. She met Louie in the hall, and alarmed her by her grief.

"Is papa worse, Dexie?"

"I do not think so, but he has been talking to me about things which must be done when he is gone, and it breaks my heart! Poor papa! he is so kind and thoughtful, he seems to remember the smallest thing that we shall need to look after, and advises about them. I am afraid it will not be many days, Louie, before it is all over, and I believe he thinks so himself," and she went to her room to sob away her grief.

It was evident to them all the next day that Mr. Sherwood was rapidly sinking, and Dexie scarcely left his side for a moment.

Once when he woke from a troubled sleep he smiled into her face, and said faintly:

"She sang it very well, didn't she, Dexie? the 'pastures green,' you know. I never have forgotten it. Can you sing it now for me?"

"Try to tell me a little more, dear papa. Where was it you heard it?" trying in vain to think what had called forth this request.

"At Dr. Grant's church that Sunday morning in Halifax. You know—the new singer you wanted to hear. I know all about the 'pastures green' now, Dexie, but sing about it."

Instantly the Sunday morning so long ago flashed back to her mind, and with one arm around her father's neck, as she kneeled by his side, she sang:

"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want. He makes me down to lie In pastures green; he leadeth me The quiet waters by."

Her voice trembled, but there was a happy ring to it withal, and presently she saw that he slept again, his face looking happy and peaceful as it rested on the pillows.

When the doctor made his usual visit, he stayed a long time in the room, and he looked very serious as he called Dexie to the door.

"You realize how ill your father is, do you not, Miss Sherwood?" and he looked earnestly into her face. "Ah! I see you do. I wished to prepare you for the worst. I will come in later in the day and see if I can be of use."

"You think there is immediate danger, Dr. Brown?"

"He may live through the day—not much longer, I fear. You have been expecting this, have you not?"

"I was afraid of it," and she hid her face in her hands.

"Is there anyone I can send for, for you? If I can be of use in any way, Miss Sherwood, command me."

"Someone must tell mamma; she does not believe the end is so very near. Would you do it? Does papa know it himself, doctor?" she added, after a pause.

"Yes, and he wished me to make it known to the rest. Be brave a little while longer. Now, go back to your father. You can rely on Jarvis; she knows what to do, and has been through many trying scenes before to-day."

"Shall we send for you if—" She could not say it, but the doctor knew what she meant.

"Yes, if you like. I can do little, if anything, more; but he will not suffer any. Now I will see your mother," and he turned and left her to her grief.

It took some time for Mrs. Sherwood to fully realize the truth, for she listened to the doctor as if dazed. It was the first trouble that had ever really touched her, and at the suggestion of Jarvis she went to her room, where by degrees she grew calmer, as the terrible truth came home to heart that she was soon to be left a widow and her children fatherless.

When Louie came into her father's room a few moments later, and learned the truth, she threw her arms around Dexie's neck and wept with her. This was the darkest hour they had ever known. But there was no time to indulge in grief at present—that would come later—and Dexie whispered:

"Take Gussie up to her room, Louie, and tell her there, and do not let her come down till she is quiet. Warn Georgie not to go away from the house; papa may ask for him any minute. I am so thankful the doctor has told mamma! Watch the door, Louie, and when the minister calls to-day try and persuade mamma to see him. She would not see him the last time he was here. Oh, dear! I shall be so glad when Guy comes in!"

"Give me one little bit of comfort to cheer my heart this sad day, Dexie. Tell me, what is Guy Traverse to you—do, Dexie?"

"Dear Louie, you shall know, if you think it will comfort you any. He is my promised husband."

"I thought so all the time, and I am so glad!" and she turned away to prepare Gussie for the dreaded hour.

The time passed heavily and sadly, until the day drew near its close. Mrs. Jarvis was sitting near the bed, watching, with the eyes of an experienced nurse, for any change, and presently she bent over Dexie, who was kneeling by the bedside, and whispered:

"I think I had better bring back your mother. Do you think she can bear it?"

"She must bear it!" Dexie answered, with a sob.

As Jarvis left the room, Guy quietly entered it, and saw at a glance that the end was near. Dexie gave him one appealing look as he came beside her.

Bending over, he laid his arm across her shoulder, and whispered:

"Is there anything I can do, darling?"

Dexie shook her head, and the look on her face told of the anguish that was wringing her heart.

Seeing that her father had opened his eyes, she bent nearer.

"Are you in pain, dear papa?"

"No, dear child; and I shall soon be where that question is never asked."

Lifting his eyes, he saw Guy, and his lips parted in a smile.

"So glad you have come, my boy!" and he held out his hand. "You have indeed been like a son to me from the very first. You will be good to my little girl, and do not wait to claim her; take her very soon, and do not let her fret for me. Raise me up, Traverse! Ah! that is easier," as Guy seated himself on the bed, and raised his head and shoulders on a pillow with his arm.

Supported by Guy's arm, and with his head leaning against Guy's shoulder, Mr. Sherwood embraced his wife, who was led to the bedside by Jarvis, and Dexie bowed her head from the sight of the despair written on her mother's face.

The family were soon assembled around the bed. Mrs. Jarvis lifted Flossie in her arms, and telling her to "kiss papa good-night," laid her on the bed beside him a moment, then carried her from the room, and the few loving words spoken to Georgie did much to make him grow up a true, good man.

Gussie was overcome with grief when she realized that her father was dying, but Louie's loving arm was thrown around her, and she restrained her sobs to hear her father's last few words.

It was a sad scene. The dying father, supported in the arms of Guy Traverse, was looking for the last time on the faces of his family. Dexie, kneeling close to where Guy sat, with one of her father's hands clasped in both her own, was silently weeping. Mrs. Sherwood was kneeling on the opposite side of the bed, her face hidden against her dying husband's breast. Louie and Gussie stood near, their arms around each other's waists; while Mrs. Jarvis stood behind them, her arms extended across their shoulders, as if she would willingly protect them from this anguish if she could. Poor Georgie sobbed at the foot of the bed, a picture of childish woe.

The minister's words of peace and comfort, spoken at this moment, were sorely needed, for the prayer had scarcely ended when Mrs. Sherwood raised her eyes to her husband's face and saw the change that passed over it. A few murmured words fell from his lips as he looked into her face, then his eyes closed and his spirit was gone to the God who gave it.

Guy laid the form gently back on the bed, and something in his face must have told the stricken wife that all was over, for her piercing shriek chilled everyone to the heart.

Guy was just in time to catch Dexie's fainting form and bear her from the room, when the children round the bedside understood that they were fatherless.



CHAPTER XLIII.

Many changes took place in the household during the weeks following Mr. Sherwood's death. It was a sorrowful time to live through, and a most unpleasant memory to look back upon.

These were days of trial to Dexie. There was no one in the house that she could turn to for sympathy, for Louie had returned home the week after the funeral, and the house seemed desolate.

Mrs. Jarvis was called away by a case of sickness in another household, and Gussie, finding herself free from all restraint, made so many unreasonable demands on the patient and willing domestic that she refused to submit to it longer, and left the house; consequently, the actual work of the household, as well as the care and responsibility, rested on Dexie's shoulders.

Mrs. Sherwood had not left her room since the day her husband was buried, and her frequent hysterical attacks were very alarming to the rest of the family. She seemed as fretful and helpless as a child, and quite as unreasonable, almost blaming her husband for dying and leaving her alone in the world.

When Dexie tried to draw her thoughts away from their sad bereavement, she charged her daughter with being hard-hearted and unsympathizing in the extreme, and it seemed as if she did not wish to be comforted.

Lawyer Hackett attended the funeral, but as Mrs. Sherwood was not able to discuss business matters at that unhappy time, he promised to return later on and explain all things necessary.

Dexie awaited his return with much anxiety, for the expenses of the funeral, together with their necessary mourning, left little ready money to meet the daily expenses, and it was only by the strictest economy that she managed at all. Her "scrimping," as Gussie called it, met with no favor from anyone; and though Mrs. Sherwood talked of "ordering" this and that from the store, Dexie positively refused to be the mouthpiece of the order. They could do very well till Mr. Hackett arrived, she said.

Dexie missed her father sorely, and the one bright spot in the long, toilsome day was when Guy came in the evening. Then they would walk out together through the quiet streets to the country beyond, and she always returned refreshed and strengthened to bear the burden of another day.

As yet they had made no definite plans for their future. Dexie wished to see the household matters settled in a more satisfactory state before attempting anything that would benefit her own condition.

When the lawyer had explained to her mother the business matters which she had refused to discuss during her husband's lifetime, then it would be time enough to lay her own plans before her.

The appearance of the couple whom Mr. Hackett had secured to assist in the house and garden was daily expected, and Dexie looked forward to more freedom on their arrival.

One day, as Gussie answered the summons to dinner, she surveyed the table scornfully.

"Is this all that you have for dinner? This is the third day, Dexie, that you have given us no meat. You may like a vegetable diet, but I am sure no one else in the house does. We might as well dine at the poorhouse."

"Well, Gussie, you know it is not my fault," Dexie said, sinking into a chair with a tired sigh. "I cannot make things out of nothing, and my housekeeping money has come to an end. If you had not insisted on those extra dresses for yourself, the money would have lasted until Mr. Hackett arrived. I am sure he was not aware how little ready money there was on hand or he would have arranged for the expenses that were necessary. It is no use to fret, Gussie; there is plenty in the house to keep us for weeks yet, if we live plainly. It is a shame to worry and find fault because you have not everything you want when we have such a comfortable home left to us."

"But we can't eat the house or the furniture in it," Gussie snappishly replied, "and I am just tired and sick of the things you have given us to eat lately. I haven't the least appetite for your 'plain dishes' that you spend so much time over."

"Very well, Gussie, if you can prepare something better out of what there is to cook, I wish you would do it. I do not prepare your meals from choice. I have work of my own to do, and would prefer to keep out of the kitchen altogether, if it were possible."

"Well, I guess you'll be pretty hungry before I'll go in the kitchen to cook!" said Gussie, with uplifted nose. "I have no intention of messing myself up for other people."

"You do not need to 'mess yourself up.' I don't; and you may have to do more disagreeable things than that yet. I am going away for a rest as soon as the woman comes and gets used to the house, and she will not be able to see after everything without some help. Those starched clothes that you put into the wash every week with so little thought of the extra work they make—she will not be able to do them, if she has to see about everything else. There is a whole basketful there now, waiting for you to iron."

"Waiting for me to iron, indeed! Why didn't you do them when you ironed the rest of the clothes?" her temper rising at the bare suggestion that she should do them herself.

"I had too much else to do, Gussie, as you might know if you would give the matter a thought. You must see after them yourself, Gussie—while we are without a girl, anyway."

"We will just see about that! I never had to iron my clothes yet, and I am not going to begin now. I want my tucked skirts to-morrow, so see that you have them ready for me," and she rose to leave the room as if the matter settled.

"You will find your clothes in the basket, Gussie, whenever you choose to iron them," Dexie quietly replied, unmoved by Gussie's insolent manner, "and remember, Gussie, I positively refuse to do them for you again—never once again, remember!"

Glancing out the window she saw Guy Traverse approaching the house, and not wishing him to see Gussie in her present humor she took her hat, intending to meet him at the door and take him to the garden; but her mother called her just then, and when she came downstairs Guy was standing in the hall.

"You are not going out, surely, Dexie?" said Gussie, coming out to see who she was talking to. "Mamma would not let you go if she knew that you refused to do what I told you. It would be better for you to go to the kitchen and finish your work, instead of gadding about with the men."

"My work is done for the day, Gussie; it is your work that is waiting in the kitchen," and she hurried down the steps, with Guy closely following, his face dark with anger at the insulting words he had heard used to his promised wife.

"And this is the way they treat you, my darling!" he said, as he reached her side. "I understand why you never want me to come in and spend an hour with you; you are afraid I shall hear how they talk to you. I have a good mind to take you to the minister's this very afternoon, and make you my wife, so I can look after you."

"Do not mind it, Guy," trying to keep back the tears. "Gussie was vexed because she did not find her clothes done up for her as usual."

"And she is actually imposing on you to such an extent as that, is she? That explains that pale, tired face! My dear little girl, I cannot allow it! Do you love me well enough to come and live in a set of rooms until we can get a decent house ready?" and he looked tenderly into her face.

"I could live happy with you in one room, Guy, if I could leave home, but I cannot do that just yet. I must stay until Mr. Hackett comes back. I know they cannot do without me just now, dear. I would go with you willingly if I could, for I feel so tired and discouraged. Mamma thinks I neglect her if I am not constantly waiting upon her; but there are the children to see to. They are good little things, but they take up the time, you know, and the hours seem to more than fly."

"But if you were not there, dear, perhaps your mother would rouse herself; and I do think that would do her more good than all the doctoring she is getting, and Gussie should be able to be of as much assistance as yourself."

"Perhaps you are right, Guy, but it does not seem right for me to leave them now, and so soon after papa's death, too," and her eyes filled again.

"But you know your father said we were not to let that delay our marriage, dear. I feel quite sure he knew you would not have a happy life, so wished you under my protection."

"Don't tempt me anymore, Guy," said the quivering lips. "You do not know how my heart cries out for the comfort and relief that you offer me. I know very well I am only tolerated at home on account of my usefulness, but they do not understand what it would be like if I were not there. Gussie has not the necessary practice to make her the help she might be, and mamma would be sure to suffer if I left them before the new help arrives. Besides, Guy, I have not had time to prepare a thing for myself yet," she added, in a low, shy voice.

"You have not had time to get the rest you need, darling, and that is of more account than anything else. You must not think I am going to let you stay home and have Gussie abuse you while you make up a lot of finery. Be my little wife in earnest, darling, and whatever you want you can get just as easily after you are married as before. I never could see the sense in women making up such a quantity of new clothes just before their marriage; it always looks to me as if they were afraid their future husbands would not give them what they required when they were married."

"Let me speak to your mother to-day, Dexie, dear," he added, "and I will tell her that it was your father's wish that we should not delay our marriage; and I must insist that you be used with more consideration. I really cannot let matters go on without some protest; it would not be right for me to allow it, either."

"Very well, Guy, do as you think best; they cannot make it much more uncomfortable than it is at present."

But in this Dexie found she was mistaken.

Mrs. Sherwood listened to Guy's manly and straightforward declaration in silence, though her raised eyebrows showed something of her surprise as well as displeasure. She admitted she had no right to refuse her permission for their marriage if her father approved of it, but it was "quite like Dexie to keep her in ignorance of the true state of affairs." Of course, the marriage must not take place for some months yet. The impropriety of it so soon after her father's death was quite shocking, even to hear it suggested; besides, Dexie could not be spared from home. When Guy reminded her that Dexie should have the rest she evidently needed, her manner became icy at once, though she kept her indignation well in check until Guy had left the house.

"So you have been complaining to Mr. Traverse, have you?" she said angrily to Dexie. "We will see hereafter if you do not have something to complain about! If you are thinking of getting married to Mr. Traverse on purpose to shirk your duties at home, I will see to it that you earn your wedding while you are home. As for being married in the near future, your father's death will certainly forbid that, and I think Mr. Traverse will find that you are still under my authority, and that I am not quite so fond of him as your father was."

"Do not have any fear, mamma, that I will ever ask for a wedding that would be so grudgingly given," said Dexie, with quiet dignity; "but I think I have already fairly earned my wedding, if that is the way you choose to put it. I hardly think anyone will ever hear you suggest that Gussie must earn her wedding before her marriage can take place, and I think I have been as good a daughter to you as Gussie has—I have tried to be, anyway, mamma."

"Gussie will never have the low tastes and plebeian ways that have made you such an eyesore to me. She is too much of a lady to delight in the domestic economy that you always aspired to, and when her time comes I shall see that she has a wedding that shall fill your heart with envy!" said the now thoroughly angry woman.

"I think that will not be possible, mamma," said the low, quiet tones, so unlike the Dexie of old. "It is not to the wedding I am looking forward with so much happiness, but to the loving husband I shall gain thereby, and the future happy life I shall spend with him. I am thankful to say that I do not need a grand wedding to make me perfectly happy," and Dexie left the room, her face white and sad as the result of the interview.

Gussie soon learned the true state of affairs, and Dexie had reason to be thankful that Guy had not spoken at an earlier day.

To most mothers, the few months or weeks previous to a daughter's marriage, the heart is full of loving consideration for her; the new position which her daughter is soon to fill arouses all her tenderness, and she is full of love that is not unmixed with pity. But mothers are not all cast in the same mould, and Mrs. Sherwood thought of Dexie's marriage only in the light in which it affected herself. Dexie was a necessity in the household, and she would see that Dexie had no spare moments; she must make herself doubly useful, and prepare for their future comfort; and as Gussie held to the same opinion, only declared it more frequently, Dexie had anything but an easy time of it.

One day when Gussie was harping on the same string, yet found it impossible to get Dexie to tell of her future plans, she retorted:

"Well, I think you have acted shamefully! I wonder what Hugh McNeil will say when he hears you have thrown him over again!—but I warned him! I told him just how you had been flirting with Traverse, and I am quite sure Hugh spoke to him about it, too! But you have been like the dog in the manger—you would neither take Hugh yourself nor give anyone else the chance of getting him. I might have had the benefit of his money if it had not been for you! I suppose you think you are smart to 'cut out' Guy Traverse's city girl, but it just shows how mean you are, though I can't see for the life of me what any man sees in you to admire!"

Dexie looked at her sister with flashing eyes. She longed to tell her what a ridiculous mess of mistakes she had got into. But what was the use! she would not give way to her temper if she could help it, though it was a temptation hard to resist.

"Sometime, Gussie, you shall know all about Guy's city girl, if for no other reason than to make you thoroughly ashamed of yourself; and if you only knew how far from the truth all your surmises are, you would not be so free to talk. You make yourself ridiculous, if you only knew it!"

The next day, much to Dexie's delight, Mr. Hackett made his appearance, and easily explained the cause of his delay; and as he wished to have a final examination of all the papers in her father's desk, he asked Dexie's assistance, giving as a reason that a certain Mr. Plaisted had put in his claims for a large amount as soon as her father's death had been published. After explaining the matter to Dexie, she knew at once where to look for the proof needed to refute such claims, and placing the copy of the letter she had brought home from Prince Edward Island into the hands of the lawyer, she told him all the circumstances connected with it, and the break in the business intercourse with her father in consequence of it.

"Well, that Plaisted is a regular scamp!" said the lawyer. "I will take this letter with me, and with the knowledge I have now of him and his doings I fancy he will not care to face a judge and jury to enforce his claims, as he so boldly announces his intention. If I had known of this, or had taken this bundle of papers with me before, it would have saved me much time and annoyance. However, this time I will leave nothing but what you can claim as your father's gift, Miss Sherwood. The desk and its contents are now yours."

"Now, Miss Sherwood," said he, later, "I am ready to see your mother and have a talk with her; and if you will bring along the bills, which I daresay are rather heavy, I will see to their settlement."

"There are no bills to settle, Mr. Hackett—none, at least, that I know of; everything was paid for as it was ordered. I must confess we are about penniless, though," she smilingly said, "and if you had delayed coming for many more days we would have been like Mother Hubbard, with a bare cupboard."

"Why, you do not mean it, surely! Well, well! I never thought of such a possibility! But, then, I never thought you would try to settle the bills out of the money left for other purposes. Other things might have waited till I came to look after them myself."

"It has not hurt us to practise economy, and I did not want people to think that papa did not leave us enough to pay our expenses, so I paid the bills as long as the money held out. I had a little saved up, and that came in very handy, but I shall be glad to get something on the housekeeping account. They have all been protesting against the lack of variety on the table, till my sister thinks she is boarding at the poorhouse."

"Oh, not quite so bad as that! not quite so bad, I hope! But you should have written to me, my dear Miss Sherwood, and told me about it. You have managed wonderfully. I have come prepared to settle all accounts and arrange about the future; but, by the way, I have something here for yourself," taking a package from his breast-pocket, and handing it to her. "Your father directed me to give you this. Oh, it is all right!" as Dexie exposed a roll of bills. "Your father explained it to me the last time I saw him, and I think myself it is only fair that the daughter who watched over him and waited on him so faithfully should be especially remembered. It is all right, and will come in very handy when the wedding comes off. There! don't mind me! Your father told me all about it, and explained many things which I need not have known if there had been any chance of his recovery. But he knew someone must take an interest in you as a family, and I am paid to do it, so it is all right, and the money is justly your own, for you helped to earn it—yes, this was received from his publishers for the work you helped him to do."

"But I have a twin sister, Mr. Hackett," Dexie began, as she counted the bills in her hand, "and I ought to share this with her."

"Not at all! not at all, Miss Sherwood," was the decided answer. "Your mother will supply your sister's wants willingly, which I fear would not be the case with yourself, if you were left to her generosity. Pardon my plain-speaking, Miss Sherwood; it is sometimes necessary, and I know what I am talking about. It is your father's gift—a wedding present, if you like to call it—and is intended for yourself alone, and in my opinion is not half what you deserve, there! I am an old man, comparatively speaking, but my eyes are young yet."

Dexie led the way to Mrs. Sherwood's room, where her mother was anxiously awaiting the appearance of the lawyer. She had become quite alarmed at the want of money, and insisted that Dexie must have been wilfully extravagant. But as Dexie produced all the accounts, and went over them before Mr. Hackett, Mrs. Sherwood was obliged to confess that the blame was not all on Dexie's shoulders, though she thought some of the bills extremely exorbitant, and could not be convinced that the extras which Gussie had ordered made such a difference.

Mrs. Sherwood found the interview with the lawyer very satisfactory, and she viewed with pleasure the roll of bills he left for their immediate use; and, at the sight of it, Gussie made a mental list of various luxurious articles she had long desired to possess.

Dexie was putting the desk in order when Mr. Hackett returned through the room, and he stopped for a few minutes' conversation with her while he drew on his gloves.

"I omitted to tell your mother, Miss Sherwood, that the woman to whom I referred when I was here before, will be ready to engage with you in about two weeks. Both she and her husband have excellent references, and I think they will suit very well. I believe you will find them both very trustworthy and worth waiting for. Do not hesitate to write to me if any difficulty should arise," and bidding her a cordial "Good-bye" he left the house.

Gussie was not pleased over the fact that Dexie had to "waste all the morning over those old papers," though she had not dared to remonstrate in Mr. Hackett's hearing, for she stood very much in awe of the lynx-eyed lawyer, who seemed to read her through and through with his keen grey eyes.

"How much longer are you going to be over those papers, I'd like to know?" she said, as she heard the front door close behind him. "The idea of you sitting there, and the dishes not washed yet!"

"Well, Gussie, you might have washed them before this; you have had plenty of time. I must put away these papers while I have them sorted out; then I will do what I can in the kitchen. Try to manage till I am done, Gussie; I won't be long now," and she looked up with a smile, as she tied a package of MSS. together and laid it away snugly in the drawer.

"You can finish those papers after you see to your work," said Gussie authoritatively. "You need not think you are going to be allowed to sit here all the afternoon, for Mr. Hackett left mamma a lot of money, and I guess we'll see who is going to run the house after this."

"Well, Gussie, that last remark of yours suggests good news," said Dexie, with a good-humored smile. "I will be delighted, indeed, if someone will take my place, for I feel sadly in need of a rest."

"Oh! I did not say you were to give up any part of the work! I guess you'll have to do that, whether you want to or not; but mamma says that I am to be the housekeeper and do the ordering after this," and there was a triumphant ring in her tone.

"Well, I was afraid that you would never care to do that, Gussie, and I am glad to see you are willing to undertake the difficult task; but the woman that Mr. Hackett is sending us cannot come for two weeks, so we must look up someone to do the work until she comes. Janet Robinson goes out by the day; I think we had better send for her."

"Well, the idea! Hire a girl so you can sit in the parlor with Traverse, I suppose! You managed well enough since Eliza left, and I guess you will get no chance to play the lady in this house! The kitchen is your place, and that is all you are fit for!"

"Then I throw up the situation from this moment!" said Dexie, hotly, thoroughly aroused at last. "It is quite time I turned my attention to something higher—to the making of blue or green dogs on canvas, for instance! Hire a servant to wait on you before night, for I will not step my foot into the kitchen again! I'll find something to do in a more congenial latitude," and Dexie thrust the remaining papers into the desk in startling confusion, locking the several drawers with a snap.

As Gussie left the room she rose to her feet, intending to send word to Guy to come and take her away, but, as she turned about, he caught her in his strong arms and held her close to him.

"Oh, Guy! how long have you been here?" and she burst into tears.

"Long enough to make up my mind that Gussie shall never get the chance to insult you again as she has done in my hearing. Dexie! it makes my blood boil to know that you are treated in this manner! You must come away with me! I cannot leave you in the house after hearing those words said to you. You must not refuse, darling!" and he wiped away her tears and kissed the white face in his arms.

"Oh, Guy! if you only would take me," she sobbed. "I was just going to send for you, and beg of you to take me at once."

"I ran in to tell you that I am called to the city on business, and must go on the 5.30 train, so come with me, darling. I have a married sister living in Boston, who will make you right welcome, and we will be married as soon as the ceremony can be performed. Will you agree to this plan, my darling?"

"Yes, and bless you for the chance of getting away so quickly; but oh, Guy! I seem to be all alone since papa died!" and the tears fell afresh.

"You will not be able to say that in a few hours' time, dear; but I must hasten—I have an appointment at my office this minute. I will be back for you in less than an hour, and will see your mother then. Now, go and get ready for your journey, my little wifie," and with a tender embrace he hurried away, and Dexie flew upstairs to her room.

She had barely time to lock the door when Gussie came towards it.

"Open this door at once," she said, as she found it locked. "Mamma says you are to go to the kitchen and finish the work, and if you make any more fuss about it you will be sorry for it."

No answer, for Dexie had swiftly turned the contents of her trunk out on the floor, in one promiscuous heap, and was repacking it with a swift and practised hand.

"Do you hear what I say, Dexter, or shall I repeat it?"

"I have resigned my place in the kitchen, Gussie," came the reply, "and do not intend to enter it again; besides, I have accepted a better situation since I saw you downstairs. I am packing my trunk to leave the house, so you see I cannot be disturbed."

Gussie stood dumb with astonishment at this unexpected announcement, but of course it could not be true!

"Oh! never mind your high tragedy airs just now; open the door at once."

"I fancy that the tragedy part of this performance will be enacted by yourself, Gussie," was the reply. "I shall not open the door till I get my clothes packed; if you choose to wait till I am done, pray do so. I will not be any longer than I can help, as I intend to take the first train for the city."

Gussie applied her eye to the keyhole, and the limited view she had of the room was enough to convince her that Dexie was certainly packing her trunk, and she flew to her mother's room with the news.

Mrs. Sherwood could not believe it. Leave the house just when they needed her the most! Impossible! She sent Gussie back to the door with a peremptory message for Dexie to come to her room immediately.

"Tell mamma I will be there in a few minutes. I am almost through packing, and if I were you, Gussie, I would go at once and see if that Robinson girl will come and stay with you till the new cook arrives; and do have a care how you speak to her, for mamma's sake. Do not imagine that something will happen to prevent me going away, for that is a settled fact!"

Gussie hastened back to her mother in alarm.

"She is really going, mamma, and says she won't come out of her room until she gets her trunk packed. Oh! what shall we do with no one in the house to do a thing for us! I did not mean to vex her when I spoke to her as I did," bursting into tears.

"So it is your fault that, she is going! Are my troubles not heavy enough that you drive the only help I have away from me? What will become of us if Dexie leaves us, for you are as useless as you are extravagant!" And the mother scolded and complained as if Gussie alone were responsible for the trouble. "Go at once and make some amends for your ill-tempered words," she added, "and perhaps Dexie will overlook it, for my sake."

Gussie returned to the closed door, and in contrite tones begged for admittance.

"Do let me come in, Dexie. I am sorry I vexed you, and you are not in earnest about going away, surely, for you know we cannot spare you."

Dexie threw open the door, saying: "Come in and judge for yourself, Gussie. You see I really am going," she said, snapping the catch of her travelling bag. "If my sudden departure puts the rest of the family to inconvenience, you can blame yourself for it, Gussie; but you are just as strong as I am, and should be able to fill my place. However, if you think yourself above being useful, I hope you will not delay in getting someone else here, for you know you could not have driven me out at a more inconvenient time, for there is literally nothing cooked in the house."

"But where are you going? Not to auntie's with Louie, surely?"

"No. I should not like auntie to have a worse opinion of you than she has already. In leaving home I am consulting my own happiness, and I am going where I shall be kindly treated and warmly welcomed."

"Well, I'm sorry now I said anything to vex you, Dexie; so you need not go, after all."

"Your repentance comes too late, Gussie, for my plans are made; but I do not want to go away with any ill-feelings to any one, so here is my hand, Gussie."

"Oh, if you are really going, I'll not shake hands and make up with you! If we only had some help in the house I would be glad to get rid of you. I don't believe mamma will let you go, anyway," and with a toss of her head she left the room, saying to herself: "She'll have to unpack her things when mamma gets hold of her, so why need I humble myself to her."

Dexie was soon in her mother's room, listening to the reproaches that were heaped upon her without stint; but as no reply was given to them, Mrs. Sherwood looked at her intently, and something in the mother's heart brought to her attention the wan, white face of her daughter. She had not noticed that Dexie looked so worn and thin, and for a moment her heart smote her.

"What is this I hear, Dexie?" she said at last. "Do you think I am going to allow you to leave the house like this? You are forgetting that you are still under my authority."

"But you do not use your authority fairly, mamma. You have made my life very hard and unhappy since papa died, and permit Gussie to be impudent to me, even when I am doing everything for her comfort. I would have stayed a few weeks longer, but Gussie has gone too far and made it impossible for me to stay another day, so I am going away to be married."

"Married! Dexie, are you crazy?"

"No, I think no one else will think so, when they know that I am exchanging my present life for one so much happier."

"But, Dexie, I will not allow this! To be married in such haste, and away from home, without any preparations whatever! I forbid you to leave the house with such an absurd intention."

"I am sorry to have to deliberately disobey you, mamma, but I have passed my word and have no wish to take it back. I admit it would have given me much happiness to have been married from home, but it is doubtful if I could live long enough to earn a wedding, so it is best as it is."

"And you talk of being married, and your father not dead three months yet! Oh! you heartless girl! And you pretended to care so much for him! You shall not do this shameful thing! Fancy how people would talk!"

Dexie burst into tears at the mention of her father, and turning to leave the room, she heard Guy's voice in the hall below.

"Are you nearly ready, my darling?" as she ran down the stairs to meet him.

"All ready, but mamma is not going to let me go without some trouble, Guy."

"Take me to her at once, dear, and do not be alarmed. She will not forbid our marriage, so dry those pretty eyes."

Mrs. Sherwood found she could not talk to this stern-faced man as she did to Dexie. She felt embarrassed at his replies to her many objections, and the truths that Guy put so plainly she could neither deny nor refute.

"It was Mr. Sherwood's wish that our marriage should not be delayed," was his answer to this objection, "and according to Dexie's wishes it will be strictly private. As to the unkind remarks which you fear will be made about our rather hasty marriage, I will take it upon myself to silence them, directly they reach my ears, by explaining Dexie's unpleasant position at home since she has been without her father's protection."

Mrs. Sherwood saw it was the best policy to give her sanction to the marriage, seeing she had no power to prevent it; but when she offered, after some hesitation, to give Dexie a sum of money to provide her with an outfit, Guy refused to allow Dexie to accept it.

"It is no matter, mamma," Dexie said through her tears, for the interview had been most distressing. "Papa gave me the money he received from his published sketches, so I will do very well."

Mrs. Sherwood did not care to ask what the sum amounted to; but having a poor opinion of her husband's literary efforts, she considered that it could not be much.

"I hope you will not regret this hasty step, Dexie," as Dexie came to her side to wish her good-bye. "You cannot expect me to think kindly of you when you leave me in such a way as this."