"My father has come," she said. "He is not such a father as I would have selected; still, he is my father. I knew him the moment I opened the door. He wants me to go with him; he says he is able to provide for me.

He has claims on me."

"Have we none?" Miss f.a.n.n.y asked.

"More than anybody in the world," replied Margaret, turning to her; "more than all the rest of the world put together. But I have always said to myself," she addressed Neighbour Tomlin again, "that if it should ever happen that I found myself unable to carry out your wishes, sir, it would be best for me to leave your roof, where all my happiness has come to me." She was very humble, both in speech and demeanour.

Neighbour Tomlin looked at her with a puzzled and a grieved expression.

"Why, I don't understand you, Margaret," said Neighbour Tomlin. "What wish of mine have you found yourself unable to carry out?"

"Only one, sir; but that was a very important one; you desired me to marry Mr. Bethune."

"I? Why, you were never more mistaken in your life," replied Neighbour Tomlin, with what Miss f.a.n.n.y thought was unnecessary energy. "I may have suggested it; I saw you gloomy and unhappy, and I had observed the devotion of the young man. What more natural than for me to suggest that--Margaret! you are giving me a terrible wound!" He turned and went into the library, and Margaret ran after him.

It is probable that Nan knows better than any outsider what occurred then. It seems that Margaret, in her excitement, forgot to close the door after her, and Nan was sitting where she could see pretty much everything that happened; and she had a delicious little tale to tell her dear Johnny when she went home, a tale so impossible and romantic that she forgot her own troubles, and fairly glowed with happiness. But it is best not to depend too much on what Nan saw, though her sight was fairly good where her interests were enlisted.

Margaret ran after Neighbour Tomlin and seized him by the arm. "Oh, I never meant to wound you," she cried--"you who have been so kind, and so good! Oh, if you could only read my heart, you would forgive me, instantly and forever."

"I can read my own heart," said Neighbour Tomlin, "and it has but one feeling for you."

"Then kiss me good-bye," she said. "I am going with my father."

"If I kiss you," he replied, "you'll not go."

She looked at him, and he at her, and she found herself in the focus of a light that enabled her to see everything more clearly. She caught his secret and he hers, and there was no longer any room for misunderstanding. Her father, weak as he was, had been strong enough to provide his daughter with a remedy for the only serious trouble, short of bereavement, that his daughter was ever to know. She refused to return to the parlour, where he awaited her.

"Shall I go?" said Neighbour Tomlin.

"If you please, sir," said Margaret, with a faint smile. She could hardly realise the change that had so suddenly taken place in her hopes and her plans, so swift and unexpected had it been.

Neighbour Tomlin went into the parlour, and made Bridalbin acquainted with the facts.

"Margaret has changed her mind," said Neighbour Tomlin. "She thinks it is best to remain under the care and protection of those whom she knows better than she knows her father."

"Why, she seemed eager to go a moment ago," said Bridalbin; "and you must remember that she is my daughter."

"Her friends couldn't forget that under all the circ.u.mstances,"

Neighbour Tomlin remarked drily.

"I believe her mind has been poisoned against me," Bridalbin declared.

"That is quite possible," replied Neighbour Tomlin; "and I think you could easily guess the name of the poisoner."

"May I see my daughter?"

"That rests entirely with her," said Neighbor Tomlin.

But Margaret refused to see him again. Since her own troubles had been so completely swept away, her memory reverted to all the troubles her mother had to endure, as the result of Bridalbin's lack of fixed principles, and she sent him word that she would prefer not to see him then or ever afterward; and so the man went away, more bent on doing mischief than ever, though he was compelled to change his field of operations.

And then, after he was gone, a silence fell on the company. Nan appeared to be in a dazed condition, while Miss f.a.n.n.y sat looking out of the window. Margaret, very much subdued, was clinging to Nan, and Neighbour Tomlin was pacing up and down in the library in a glow of happiness. All his early dreams had come back to him, and they were true. The romance of his youth had been changed into a reality.

Margaret was the first to break the silence. She left Nan, and went slowly to Miss f.a.n.n.y, and stood by her chair. "What do you think of me?"

she said, in a low voice.

For answer, Miss f.a.n.n.y rose and placed her arms around the girl, and held her tightly for a moment, and then kissed her.

"But I do think, my dear," she said with an effort to laugh, "that the matter might have been arranged without frightening us to death."

"I had no thought of frightening you. Oh, I am afraid I had no thought for anything but my own troubles. Did you know? Did you guess?"

"I knew about Pulaski, but I had to go away from home to learn the news about you. Madame Awtry called my attention to it, and then with my eyes upon, I could see a great many things that were not visible before."

"Why, how could she know?" cried Margaret. "I have talked with her not more than a half dozen times."

"She is a very wise woman," Miss f.a.n.n.y remarked, by way of explanation.

"Well, when I get in love, I'll not visit Madame Awtry," said Nan.

"My dear, you have been there once too often," Miss f.a.n.n.y declared.

"Why, what has she been telling you?" inquired Nan, blushing very red.

"I'll not disclose your secrets, Nan," answered Miss f.a.n.n.y.

"I would thank you kindly, if I had any," said Nan.

And then, suddenly, while Margaret was standing with her arms around Miss f.a.n.n.y, she began to blush and show signs of embarra.s.sment.

"Nan," she said, "will you take a boarder for--for--for I don't know how long?"

"Not for long, Nan. Say a couple of weeks." It was Neighbour Tomlin who spoke, as he came out of the library.

"Oh, for longer than that," protested Margaret.

"You must remember that I am getting old, child," he said very solemnly.

"So am I, sir," she said archly. "I am quite as old as you are, I think."

"This is the first quarrel," Nan declared, "and who knows how it will all end? You are to come and stay as long as you please, and then after that, you are to stay as long as I please."

"I declare, Nan, you talk like an old woman!" exclaimed Miss f.a.n.n.y; whereupon Nan laughed and said she had to be serious sometimes.

And so it was arranged that Margaret was to stay with Nan for an indefinite period. "I hope you will come to see me occasionally, Mr.

Tomlin, and you too, Aunt f.a.n.n.y," she said with mock formality. "We shall have days for receiving company, just as the fine ladies do in the cities; and you'll have to send in your cards."

The two young women refused to go in the carriage.

"It is so small and stuffy," said Margaret to Neighbour Tomlin, "and to-day I want to be in the fresh air. If you please, sir, don't look at me like that, or I can never go." She went close to him. "Oh, is it all true? Is it really and truly true, or is it a dream?"

"It is true," he said, kissing her. "It is a dream, but it is my dream come true."