The faded lines before her laid a strong man's heart at her feet, and begged for her love in return, stating that he had been suddenly called to a distant post, and asking for an answer before he sailed. The writer felt he was presumptuous, but the exigencies of the case must be his excuse. If he had no reply he should know his pleading was in vain, and would trouble her no more; but if, on the other hand, she was not entirely indifferent to him, a line from her would bring him to her side to plead his cause in person. There was more in the letter, but this was its main purpose.

And this was the end of if: two loving hearts divided and kept apart by a damp day and an accidental drop of gum.

No wonder the tears flowed afresh, and "sunny Miss Martyn" belied her character.

She was still bending over the sheet of paper spread out on her knee when, with a knock at the door, the servant entered, saying:

"A gentleman to see you, Miss."

Hastily brushing away the traces from her cheeks, Miss Martyn rose, to see a tall, grey-haired man standing in the doorway, regarding her with a bright smile on his face.

She did not recognise him; he was a stranger to her, and yet----

The next moment he strode forward with outstretched hand.

"Selina Martyn, don't you know me? And you have altered so little!"

A moment longer she stood in doubt, and then with a little gasp exclaimed:

[Sidenote: "Edgar!"]

"Edgar! Mr. Freeman--I--I didn't know you. You--you see, it is so long since--since I had that pleasure."

And while she was speaking she was endeavouring with her foot to draw out of sight the paper that had fallen from her lap when she had risen.

He noticed her ap.r.o.n, and with an "Excuse me" bent down, and, picking it up, laid it on the table. As he did so his eyes fell for a moment on the writing, and he started slightly, but did not refer to it.

"Thank you," she said, and her cheeks had suddenly lost their colour, and her hand trembled as she indicated an armchair on the other side of the fireplace, saying, "Won't you sit down?"

He did so, easily and naturally, as though paying an ordinary afternoon call.

"Selina Martyn, you're looking remarkably well, and nearly as young as ever," he continued.

She raised her eyes shyly, and smiled as she replied, "Do you really think so, Mr. Freeman?"

"Call me Edgar, I like it better; and we've known each other long enough to account for your doing so." He did not give her a chance of objecting, but continued, "I only landed in England yesterday, and you are the first person I've called on. I got your address from my cousin, Mrs. Perry--Maud Elliott that was; she's living in Monte Video, you know; I saw her for a few hours as I pa.s.sed through. Really, Selina, you're looking prettier than ever, I declare!"

"You mustn't flatter an old woman, Mr. Freeman--well--Edgar, if you wish it. I don't think perhaps there is anything unmaidenly in my using your Christian name. We've known each other a great many years now, as you say."

"We have indeed, my dear lady. And we might have known each other a great deal better if--if--well, if you had only seen your way to it. But there--that's all pa.s.sed now. And yet----"

"Yes, that's all pa.s.sed now." And Selina gave a little sigh, yet loud enough for her visitor to hear it, and he moved his chair from the side to the front of the fire as she continued, "Do you know--Edgar--just before you came in I made a discovery--I found something that reached me a day or two before you sailed, and that I had never seen till half an hour ago," and she looked down at her fingers that were playing with the end of the delicate lace fichu she was wearing.

A smile came over her visitor's face, but he only said:

"'Pon my word, Selina, you're a very beautiful woman! I've carried your face in my memory all these years, but I see now how half-blind I must have been."

"You mustn't talk nonsense to an old woman like me. I want to tell you something, and I don't know how to do it."

"Don't try. Let me guess, and you tell me if I'm right."

Miss Martyn did not answer in words, only bowed her head, and he continued, with a glance at the paper lying on the table:

"You once received what you considered a very impertinent letter from me?"

"I don't think impertinent is the right term," replied Selina, not raising her eyes.

"Then, my dear lady, why did you not let me have an answer?"

"Oh, Edgar, I only discovered it a few minutes before you came," and casting aside all reserve, she told him of the unfortunate combination of the damp Christmas morning and the drop of gum that had so disastrously separated them.

Long before the recital was complete her visitor had shifted his chair again and again until it was close beside her own.

"You poor, dear woman!" he exclaimed, as his arm stole quietly round her waist, and Miss Martyn suffered it to remain there.

"Why did you hide your letter inside, Edgar?" she asked quietly.

"I suppose because I didn't want to startle you, and thought you should see the verses first. May I see it now?" he continued. "It's so long since I wrote it, you see."

"Yes, you may see it," replied Selina, without raising her eyes; "but it's all pa.s.sed now," with another little sigh.

His disengaged hand had secured the letter, and hastily glancing over the writing, he exclaimed with sudden fervour:

[Sidenote: "I'm Waiting!"]

"No, Selina! Every word I wrote then I mean to-day. When I left England years ago it was with your image in my heart, and with the determination that when I was rich I would come back and try my luck again. And in my heart you, and you alone, have reigned ever since. And when after long years I heard from my cousin that you might still be found at Seaton Lodge, you don't know what that meant to me. It made a boy of me again.

It blotted out all the years that have divided us, and here I am waiting for my answer."

"Oh, Edgar, we mustn't be silly. Remember, we're no longer boy and girl."

"I remember nothing of the kind. All I remember is that it's Christmas Day, that I've asked you a question, and that I am waiting for the answer you would have given me years ago but for the damp and a drop of gum. You know what it would have been then; give me it now. Dearest, I'm waiting."

And Selina Martyn gave her answer, an all-sufficient one to both.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SELINA MARTYN GAVE HER ANSWER.]

[Sidenote: Young people, read and take warning by this awful example.]

Whilst Waiting for the Motor

BY

MADELINE OYLER

Her name was Isabel, and she really was a very nice, good little girl--when she remembered. But you can't always remember, you know; you wouldn't be a little girl if you could, and this happened on one of those days when she didn't remember.