"Oh, come along just now. Aunt Frank is in bed, but Maimie will be up,"

said Harry, dragging him along to the door.

"No, I think not to-night." While they were talking the door opened and Maimie appeared.

"Ranald," she cried, in an eager voice, "I knew you would be at Kate's, and I was pretty sure you would come home with Harry. Aren't you coming in?"

"Where's Aunt Frank?" asked Harry.

"She's upstairs," said Maimie.

"Thank the Lord, eh?" added Harry, pushing in past her.

"Go away in and talk to her," said Maimie. Then turning to Ranald and looking into his devouring eyes, she said, "Well? You might say you're glad to see me." She stood where the full light of the doorway revealed the perfect beauty of her face and figure.

"Glad to see you! There is no need of saying that," replied Ranald, still gazing at her.

"How beautiful you are, Maimie," he added, bluntly.

"Thank you, and you are really quite passable."

"And I AM glad to see you."

"That's why you won't come in."

"I am coming to-morrow night."

"Everybody will be here to-morrow night."

"Yes, that's certainly a drawback."

"And I shall be very busy looking after my guests. Still," she added, noticing the disappointment in his face, "it's quite possible--"

"Exactly," his face lighting up again.

"Have you seen father's study?" asked Maimie, innocently.

"No," replied Ranald, wonderingly. "Is it so beautiful?"

"No, but it's upstairs, and--quiet."

"Well?" said Ranald.

"And perhaps you might like to see it to-morrow night."

"How stupid I am. Will you show it to me?"

"I will be busy, but perhaps Harry--"

"Will you?" said Ranald, coming close to her, with the old imperative in his voice.

Maimie drew back a little.

"Do you know what you make me think of?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"Yes, I do. I have thought of it every night since."

"You were very rude, I remember."

"You didn't think so then," said Ranald, boldly.

"I ought to have been very angry," replied Maimie, severely.

"But you weren't, you know you weren't; and do you remember what you said?"

"What I said? How awful of you; don't you dare! How can I remember?"

"Yes, you do remember, and then do you remember what _I_ said?"

"What YOU said indeed! Such assurance!"

"I have kept my word," said Ranald, "and I am coming to-morrow night.

Oh, Maimie, it has been a long, long time." He came close to her and caught her hand, the slumbering fire in his eyes blazing now in flame.

"Don't, don't, I'm sure there's Aunt Frank. No, no," she pleaded, in terror, "not to-night, Ranald!"

"Then will you show me the study to-morrow night?"

"Oh, you are very mean. Let me go!"

"Will you?" he demanded, still holding her hand.

"Yes, yes, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. My hand is quite sore.

There, now, good night. No, I won't shake hands! Well, then, if you must have it, good night."

CHAPTER XXII

FORGET THAT I LOVED YOU

"The night for dreaming, but the morn for seeing." And so Ranald found it; for with the cold, calm light of the morning, he found himself facing his battle with small sense of victory in his blood. He knew he had to deal that morning with the crisis of his life. Upon the issue his whole future would turn, but his heart without haste or pause preserved its even beat. The hour of indecision had passed. He saw his way and he meant to walk it. What was beyond the turn was hid from his eyes, but with that he need not concern himself now. Meantime he would clear away some of this accumulated correspondence lying on his desk. In the midst of his work Harry came in and laid a bundle of bills before him.

"Here you are, old chap," he said, quietly. "That's the last of it."

Ranald counted the money.

"You are sure you can spare all this? There is no hurry, you know."