upper part of the garden, and stood in the very spot by the lilac hedge, and went over it all in her mind. Yes. It was then over for good—and he probably would not marry for a long, long time. She remembered having heard Cave and her father speak of Pembroke's half joking aversion to matrimony. It would be much better for him if he did not, as he had made up his mind to enter for a career. But strange to say this did not warm her heart, which felt as heavy as a stone.
Presently she went into the house, and was quite affectionate and gay with her father, playing the piano and reading to him.
"Fathers are the pleasantest relations in the world," she said, as she kissed him good-night, earlier in the evening than usual. "No fallings out—no misunderstandings—perfect constancy. Papa, I wouldn't give you up for any man in the world."
"Wouldn't you, my dear?" remarked that amiable old cynic increduously.
