“Have you worked so very hard, then, my poor—­”

He left the sentence unfinished; his hand, half extended, was drawn back, for the three young people were seen coming down the garden, followed by the two boys, returning from their classes.  It was nearly dinner-time, and people must dine, even though in love; and boys must be kept to their school work, and all the daily duties of life must be done.  Well, perhaps, for many of us, that such should be!  I think it was as well for poor Fortune Williams.

The girls had come in wet through, with one of those sudden “haars” which are not uncommon at St. Andrews in spring, and it seemed likely to last all day.  Mr. Roy looked out of the window at it with a slightly dolorous air.

“I suppose I am rather de trop here, but really I wish you would not turn me out.  In weather like this our hotel coffee-room is just a trifle dull, isn’t it, Dalziel?  And, Miss Williams, your parlor looks so comfortable.  Will you let me stay?”

He made the request with a simplicity quite pathetic.  One of the most lovable things about this man—­is it not in all men?—­was, that with all his shrewdness and cleverness, and his having been knocked up and down the world for so many years, he still kept a directness and simpleness of character almost child-like.

To refuse would have been unkind, impossible; so Miss Williams told him he should certainly stay if he could make himself comfortable.  And to that end she soon succeeded in turning off her two turtle-doves into a room by themselves, for the use of which they had already bargained, in order to “read together, and improve their minds.”  Meanwhile she and Helen tried to help the two little boys to spend a dull holiday indoors—­if they were ever dull beside Uncle Robert, who had not lost his old influence with boys, and to those boys was already a father in all but the name.

Often Fortune watched them, sitting upon his chair, hanging about him as he walked, coming to him for sympathy in every thing.  Yes, every body loved him, for there was such an amount of love in him toward every mortal creature, except—­

She looked at him and his boys, then turned away.  What was to be had been, and always would be.  That which we fight against in our youth as being human will, human error, in our age we take humbly, knowing it to be the will of God.

By-and-by in the little household the gas was lighted, the curtains drawn, and the two lovers fetched in for tea, to behave themselves as much as they could like ordinary mortals, in general society, for the rest of the evening.  A very pleasant evening it was, spite of this new element; which was got rid of as much as possible by means of the window recess, where Janetta and David encamped composedly, a little aloof from the rest.

“I hope they don’t mind me,” said Mr. Roy, casting an amused glance in their direction, and then adroitly maneuvering with the back of his chair so as to interfere as little as possible with the young couple’s felicity.