long for the day, dearest, when I may call you
wife."

"Ah!" she said, with a wistful smile, "and I, too, shall be content
when I can call you husband."

And so we sat together upon the couch, holding each other's hand, and
speaking for the first time not as friends--but as lovers.

You who love, or who have loved, know well the joyful, careless
feeling of such moments; the great peace which overspreads the mind
when the passion of affection burns within.

Need I say more, except to tell you that our great overwhelming love
was mutual, and that our true hearts beat in unison?

Thus the afternoon slipped by until, of a sudden, we heard a girl's
voice call: "Sylvia! Sylvia!"

We sprang apart. And not a moment too soon, for next second there
appeared at the French windows the tall figure of a rather pretty
dark-haired girl in cream.

"I--I beg your pardon!" she stammered, on recognizing that Sylvia was
not alone.

"This is Mr. Biddulph," exclaimed my well-beloved. "Miss Elsie
Durnford."

I bowed, and then we all three went forth upon the lawn.

I found Sylvia's fellow-guest a very quiet young girl, and understood
that she lived somewhere in the Midlands. Her father, she told me, was
very fond of hunting, and she rode to hounds a good deal.

We wandered about the garden awaiting Shuttleworth's return, for both
girls would not hear of me leaving before tea.

"Mr. and Mrs. Shuttleworth are certain to be back in time," Sylvia
declared, "and I'm sure they'd be horribly annoyed if you went away
without seeing them."

"Do you really wish me to stay?" I asked, with a laugh, as we halted
beneath the shadow of the great spreading cedar upon the lawn.

"Of course we do," declared Elsie, laughing. "You really must remain
and keep us company, Mr. Biddulph. Sylvia, you know, is quite a
stranger. She's always travelling now-a-days. I get letters from her
from the four corners of the earth. I never know where to write so as
to catch her."

"Yes," replied my well-beloved, with a slight sigh. "When we were at
school at Eastbourne I thought it would be so jolly to travel and see
the world, but now-a-days, alas! I confess I'm already tired of it. I
would give anything to settle down quietly in the beautiful country in
England--the country which is incomparable."

"You will--one day," I remarked meaningly.

And as she lifted her eyes to mine she replied--

"Perhaps--who knows?"

The village rector returned at last, gr