"It is true," said Ranald, "though I can hardly realize it myself; it is absolutely and finally settled; and I say, old man, don't make it harder for me. You don't know what it means to me to leave this place, and--you, and--all!" In spite of his splendid nerve Ranald's voice shook a little. Harry gazed at him in amazement.

"I will give your note to Maimie," he said, "but you will be back here if I know myself. I'll see father about this."

"Now, Harry," said Ranald, rising and putting his hand on his shoulder, "you are not going to mix up in this at all; and for my sake, old chap, don't make any row at home. Promise me," said Ranald again holding him fast.

"Well, I promise," said Harry, reluctantly, "but I'll be hanged if I understand it at all; and I tell you this, that if you don't come back here, neither shall I."

"Now you are talking rot, Harry," said Ranald, and sat down again to his desk. Harry went out in a state of dazed astonishment. Alone Ranald sat in his office writing steadily except that now and then he paused to let a smile flutter across his stern, set face, as a gleam of sunshine over a rugged rock on a cloudy day. He was listening to his heart, whose every beat kept singing the refrain, "I love her, I love her; she will come to me!"

At that very moment Maimie was showing her Aunt Murray her London dresses and finery, and recounting her triumphs in that land of social glory.

"How lovely, how wonderfully lovely they are," said Mrs. Murray, touching the beautiful fabrics with fond fingers; "and I am sure they will suit you well, my dear. Have you worn most of them?"

"No, not all. This one I wore the evening I went with the Lord Archers to the Heathcote's ball. Lord Heathcote, you know, is an uncle of Captain De Lacy."

"Was Captain De Lacy there?" inquired Mrs. Murray.

"Yes, indeed," cried Maimie, "and we had a lovely time!" either the memory of that evening brought the warm blushes to her face, or it may be the thought of what she was about to tell her aunt; "and Captain De Lacy is coming to-morrow."

"Coming to-morrow?"

"Yes, he has written to Aunt Frank, and to papa as well."

Mrs. Murray sat silent, apparently not knowing what to say, and Maimie stood with the dress in her hands waiting for her aunt to speak. At length Mrs. Murray said: "You knew Captain De Lacy before, I think."

"Oh, I have known him for a long time, and he's just splendid, auntie, and he's coming to--" Maimie paused, but her face told her secret.

"Do you mean he is going to speak to your father about you, Maimie?"

Maimie nodded. "And are you glad?"

"He's very handsome, auntie, and very nice, and he's awfully well connected, and that sort of thing, and when Lord Heathcote dies he has a good chance of the estates and the title."

"Do you love him, Maimie?" asked her aunt, quietly.

Maimie dropped the dress, and sitting down upon a low stool, turned her face from her aunt, and looked out of the window.

"Oh, I suppose so, auntie," she said. "He's very nice and gentlemanly and I like to be with him--"

"But, Maimie, dear, are you not sure that you love him?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Maimie, petulantly. "Are you not pleased, auntie?"

"Well, I confess I am surprised. I do not know Captain De Lacy, and besides I thought it was--I thought you--" Mrs. Murray paused, while Maimie's face grew hot with fiery blushes, but before she could reply they heard Harry's step on the stairs, and in a moment he burst into the room.

"Ranald isn't coming!" he exclaimed. "Here's a note for you, Maimie.

But what the--but what he means," said Harry, checking himself, "I can't make out."

"Not coming?" cried Maimie, the flush fading from her face. "What can he mean?" She opened the note, and as she read the blood rushed quickly into her face again, and as quickly fled, leaving her pale and trembling.

"Well, what does he say?" inquired Harry, bluntly.

"He says it is impossible for him to come tonight," said Maimie, putting the note into her bosom.

"Huh!" grunted Harry, and flung out of the room.

Immediately Maimie pulled out the note.

"Oh, auntie," she cried, "I am so miserable; Ranald is not coming and he says--there read it." She hurriedly thrust the note into Mrs. Murray's hands, and Mrs. Murray, opening it, read:

MY DEAR MAIMIE: It is impossible for me to go to you tonight. Your father and I have had a difference so serious that I can never enter his house again, but I am writing now to tell you what I meant to tell you to-night. I love you, Maimie. I love you with all my heart and soul. I have loved you since the night I pulled you from the fire.

"Maimie," said Mrs. Murray, handing her back the note, "I do not think you ought to give me this. That is too sacred for any eyes but your own."

"Oh, I know, auntie, but what can I do? I am so sorry for Ranald! What shall I do, auntie?"

"My dear child, in this neither I nor any one can advise you. You must be true to yourself."

"Oh, I wish I knew what to do!" cried Maimie. "He wants me to tell him--" Maimie paused, her face once more covered with blushes, "and I do not know what to say!"

"What does your heart say, Maimie?" said Mrs. Murray, quietly.

"Oh, auntie, I am so miserable!"

"But, Maimie," continued her aunt, "in this matter, as I said before, you must be true to yourself. Do you love Ranald?"

"Oh, auntie, I cannot tell," cried Maimie, putting her face in her hands.

"If Ranald were De Lacy would you love him?"

"Oh yes, yes, how happy I would be!"

Then Mrs. Murray rose. "Maimie, dear," she said, and her voice was very gentle but very firm, "let me speak to you for your dear mother's sake.

Do not deceive yourself. Do not give your life for anything but love.

Ranald is a noble man and he will be a great man some day, and I love him as my own son, but I would not have you give yourself to him unless you truly loved him." She did not mention De Lacy's name nor utter a word in comparison of the two, but listening to her voice, Maimie knew only too well whither her love had gone.

"Oh, auntie," she cried, "I cannot bear it!"

"Yes, Maimie dear, you can bear to do the right, for there is One in whose strength we can do all things."

Before Maimie could reply her Aunt Frances came in.

"It is dinner-time," she announced, "and your father has just come in, Maimie, and we must have dinner over at once."

Maimie rose, and going to the glass, smoothed back her hair. Her Aunt Frances glanced at her face and then at Mrs. Murray, and as if fearing Maimie's reply, went on hurriedly, "You must look your very best to-night, and even better to-morrow," she said, smiling, significantly.

She came and put her hands on Maimie's shoulders, and kissing her, said: "Have you told your Aunt Murray who is coming to-morrow? I am sure I'm very thankful, my dear, you will be very happy. It is an excellent match. Half the girls in town will be wild with envy. He has written a very manly letter to your father, and I am sure he is a noble fellow, and he has excellent prospects. But we must hurry down to dinner," she said, turning to Mrs. Murray, who with a look of sadness on her pale face, left the room without a word.