In such a state Florence Vernon found herself a few days after her visit to Miss Evans.  She thought when with her that no doubt could ever shadow her heart again; but fears had crept over her, even though she desired to be firm.

“Shall I stay and trust his nature, or go away and take up my old life, and be again desolate and lonely?  Which?” She kept asking this again and again to herself.  “I have been so happy here; but, if I go, it must be before he returns.  No!  I will not.  I will stay and brave the talk, and-”

“Miss Vernon, please come down, papa has come!

“O, why did he come so soon?  How I dread to meet him,” were the words that Florence found springing to her lips; but not hearing his voice, she thought that Dawn must have been only in jest.

She listened again.  Yes, Mr. Wyman was talking to Dawn in the hall.  She sat very still, and soon heard them both go into the garden; then all was still.  Again alone, she tried to analyze her emotions, and see whether her deepest feeling was that of peace and rest, the same she felt when she first entered the home of Mr. Wyman.  It was there, as it had been, but so agitated that the effort to ascertain its presence gave back no deep trust to her questioning heart.  The bell rang for tea.  She would gladly have stayed away, but could fame no excuse, and after bathing her eyes, which were red and swollen, she went slowly down stairs.

“I suppose you are surprised, Florence, among the rest, at my unexpected presence.  I did not myself expect to be at home so soon, but meeting one of the firm with whom my business was connected, I was but too glad to adjust it and return at once.  I have felt very weary, too, since the first day I left home, as though some cloud was hanging over my home.  My first thought was of Dawn, but her rosy, happy face soon put to flight the apprehensions I had for her; yet you, Florence, are not looking well; are you ill?”

“I am quite well, thank you.”

He looked deeper than her words, and saw within a tumult of emotions.  He did not notice her farther, but talked with Dawn during the remainder of the meal, and when they were through went alone to walk.

“He shuns me,” she said, as she went into her room and sat down, sad and dejected, “what but wrong can make him appear so?  But I will not leave it thus.  I will know from him to-night whether these reports are true, and then if true, leave here forever.  Happiness, like that I have experienced the past few months is too great to last.”

He sat alone in the library; she rapped softly at his door.

“Come in,” he said kindly, and rose to meet her as she entered.

She motioned him back to his seat.  “Stay, do not rise,” was all she could say, and fell at his feet.

He lifted her gently, as a mother might have raised a weary child, and placed her beside him.  Then, taking her hand, cold with excitement, in his own, said,—­