s, it was Mr Maxwell who told me."

"Rather queer--his telling you, wasn't it?"

"No. In the circumstances it was natural enough. I knew it, or I had
guessed it before he told me."

And then she went on to tell of the first note that Miss Essie had sent
her, because she was one of the Gershom friends of her friend "Will
Maxwell," as she called him. "But it is a long time now since one of
her pretty notes has come to me. But they correspond, and have always
done so, since he came to Gershom."

Clifton said nothing, and his sister was silent for a time. Then she
asked:

"Who told you of their engagement?"

"Engagement! There is no engagement," said Clifton shortly.

"No formal engagement, but that was only because her father thought Miss
Essie too young; but the time of waiting is nearly over now."

"Lizzie, if I had been asked who had been most in Mr Maxwell's thoughts
for the last year I should not certainly have said it was Miss Langden."

"Well, your penetration would have been at fault, that is all."

"And I should not have said that Miss Langden had been giving many of
her thoughts to him, for the last year at least."

"Of that I can say nothing. But who told you of the proposal? Not Mr
Maxwell?"

"No. Mr Langden told me."

"Mr Langden!" exclaimed Elizabeth, and by and by she added: "Is that
all I am to hear, brother?"

"It is all I have to tell at present. Perhaps I may have more by and
by."

"Or perhaps it may be Mr Maxwell who may have something to tell," said
Elizabeth gravely, "when he comes home from Thanksgiving."

Clifton laughed.

"Possibly he may--but--"

"Clifton, I cannot bear to think that Mr Maxwell and you may not always
be friends."

"Well, you needn't fret about it beforehand, need you?" and then he rose
and went away.

They both had something to tell before Thanksgiving Day, but it was not
just what Elizabeth had expected to hear. Clifton did not tell his part
before Thanksgiving, however. Indeed, he never told it. He was away a
good deal about that time; and was so much occupied when he was at home,
that Elizabeth saw less of him, and heard less from him than had ever
been the case before during the same length of time, and she could only
wait till it should be his pleasure to speak. But Mr Maxwell lost no
time in saying to his friend what he had to say.

One fair September morning, about a year after her father's death,
Elizabeth saw the minister coming i