“Yes, and a nice tyrant you were!” she said, laughing, when she had recovered from her surprise, “always scolding and preaching at me.”

He seemed inclined to talk lightly at first, and then grew suddenly silent as they went into the drawing-room.  Beth felt as though he were regarding her with a sort of protecting air.  What did it mean?  What had brought him here so suddenly?  She was growing embarrassed at his silence, when she suddenly plunged into conversation about Montreal, the Wesleyan College, and other topics that were farthest away from her present thought and interest.

“Beth,” said Arthur suddenly, interrupting the flow of her remarks in a gentle tone, “Beth, why did you not tell me last summer that you were going to be a missionary?”

She seemed startled for a moment, as he looked into her flushed face.

“Oh, I don’t know.  I—­I meant to.  I meant to tell you that afternoon you came here before you went away, but I didn’t know you were going so soon, and I didn’t tell you somehow.  Who told you?”

“Marie de Vere told me,” he said, gently.  “She wrote to me just a few hours before she died; but I didn’t get the letter till yesterday.  She left it with Clarence, and he couldn’t find me at first.”

They looked at each other a moment in silence, and there was a tender smile in his eyes.  Then a sudden flush crimsoned her cheek.  How much did he know?  Had Marie told him that she—­

“Beth, why did you not tell me before that you were free—­that you were not another’s promised wife?” His voice was gentle, very gentle.  Her face drooped, and her hand trembled as it lay on her black dress.  He rose and bent over her, his hand resting on her shoulder.  His touch thrilled her, soothed her, but she dare not raise her eyes.

“I—­I—­didn’t know it mattered—­that; you cared,” she stammered.

“Didn’t know I cared!” he exclaimed; then, in a softer tone, “Beth, did you think I had forgotten—­that I could forget?  I love you, Beth.  Can you ever love me enough to be my wife?”

She could not speak, but in her upturned face he read her answer, and his lips touched her brow reverently.  Closer, closer to his breast he drew her.  Soul open to soul, heart beating against heart!  The old clock ticked in the stillness, and the crimson glow of the sunset was reflected on the parlor wall.  Oh, what joy was this suddenly breaking through the clouds upon them!  Beth was the first to break the silence.

“Oh, Arthur, I love you so!  I love you so!” she said, twining her arms passionately about his neck, as her tears fell upon his breast.  It was the long pent-up cry of her loving womanhood.

“But Arthur, why were you so cold and strange that day we parted last summer?”

“I thought you were another’s intended wife.  I tried to hide my love from you.”  His voice shook slightly as he answered.

One long, lingering look into each other’s eyes, and, with one thought, they knelt together beside the old couch and gave thanks to the all-loving Father who had guided their paths together.