strange to her. The smiles began to come back to her eyes, a faint flush of colour to her cheeks, and when at length she was laid down upon a luxurious ottoman beside the drawing-room [178]fire, she held her husband’s hand between both of hers, and looked up at him with a glance that went to his very heart.

[178]

“You have been so very, very good to me, Randolph, though I have only been a trouble to you all this time. I never thought I could feel like this away from Trevlyn. Indeed I will try to make you happy too.”

He bent down and kissed her, a thrill of intense joy running through him.

“Does that mean that you can be happy here, my Monica?” he asked.

She was always perfectly truthful, and paused a little before answering; yet there was a light in her eyes and a little smile upon her lips.

“It feels very strange,” she said, “and very like a dream. Of course I miss [179]Trevlyn—of course I would rather be there; but——” and here she lifted her eyes with the sweetest glance of trusting confidence. “I know that you know best, Randolph, I know that you judge more wisely than I can do; and that you always think of my happiness first. You have been very, very good to me all this time, far better than I deserve. I am going to be happy here, and when I may go home, I know you will be the first to take me there.”

[179]

He laid his hand upon her head in a tender caress.

“I will, indeed, my Monica,” he answered; “but, believe me, for the present you are better here. You will grow strong faster away from Trevlyn than near it.”

[180]

[180]

She smiled a little, very sweetly.

“I will try to think so, too, Randolph, for I am very sure that you are wiser than I; and I have learned how good you are to me—always.”

That evening passed very quietly, yet very happily.

Was this the beginning of better things to come?

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