d Betty otherwise than of my own
Margery, and I know nothing in the world has ever been farther from good
Dr. and Mrs. Burnett's minds than the possible involvement of one of
their girls in a love-affair.

"And now I must write them something of this," she added, with a sigh.
"It would not be right to keep secret even the beginnings of what might
prove to be of infinite importance. Of course Howard's family,
character, position, are above question; but his health, his exacting
nature; his lack of so many qualities Dr. Burnett considers essential;
the undesirability of such an entanglement! Oh! it would be only the
beginning of sorrows should Barbara grow to care for him."

Poor Mrs. Douglas's face showed the sudden weight of care that had been
launched upon her, as she anxiously asked:--

"What do you advise, Robert?"

"Nothing; only to go on just as we have been doing. Fill the days as
full as we can, and trust that all will be right. It is best never to
try to manage affairs, I believe."

And Barbara--how did Barbara feel? She could never have analyzed and put
into definite thought the inner life she was leading during these days.
Indeed, it is doubtful whether she had the slightest conception of the
change that was gradually working within her. But rapidly she was
putting away childish things, and "woman's lot" was coming fast upon
her. Mrs. Douglas would have been astounded, indeed, could she, with her
eyes of experience and wisdom, have looked into the heart of Barbara,
whom she still called "child." That which the young girl could not
understand would have been a revelation to her who had been a loving
wife. With what an overwhelming pity would she have hastened to restore
her to her parents before this hopeless love should grow any stronger,
and she become aware of its existence!

Dr. Burnett's admiration for Robert Sumner was unbounded. He had known
him from boyhood, and had always been his confidant, so far as an older
man can be with a younger. Many times he had talked to his children
about him--about his earnestness and sincerity of purpose--his high
aims, and his willingness to spare no pains to realize them.

Barbara, who, perhaps, had been more than any other of the children her
father's comrade, had listened to these tales and praises until Robert
Sumner had become her ideal of all that was noble. No one had dreamed of
such a thing, but so it was; and through all the excitement of
preparation and