dom compared to--wifehood?" she breathed.

"Wife!" he repeated reverently, "'tis a sweet word, Betty!"

"So is--husband, John."

"My Betty--dear--when?"

"Is three months hence too long?"

"Aye, 'tis very long--but----"

"Six weeks, Jack?"

O never-to-be-forgotten hour! Hour long dreamed and yet expected
never, so swift to haste away but whose memory was to blossom, sweet
and all unfading.

"Dear," said she at last, "since you are not for marriage '_a la mode_'
I shall plague you mightily----"

"God!" he exclaimed softly, "what a life 'twill be!"

But all at once she started from him as, afar off, a faint wailing
arose:

"Betty, my love! O Bet--my Betty love!"

My lady frowned and rising, laid rosy finger to lip.

"Not a word yet, my John! Let our secret be ours awhile. Come, let us
meet her."'

Slowly they went amid the roses and sighed for the hour that was gone
and wondered to see the sun so low; and thus they presently beheld Lady
Belinda twittering towards them escorted by the Sergeant and the tall,
well-fed menial.

"O naughty Bet!" she cried, "O wicked puss and truant! I've sought
thee this hour and more, I've called thee until my poor voice grew
languishing and weak! Ah, dear Major, scold her for me, prithee scold!"

"Nay, madam," he answered, bowing, "I fear the blame is mine, I was for
showing my lady the roses as 'twere, and--er----"

"La, dear aunt," said my lady, "how warm you look, so red--so flushed
and fulsome!"

"'Tis the sun--the sun!" cried Lady Belinda, "I vow I cannot abide the
sun, it nauseates me!"

"Then let us into the shade, mam," said the Major, offering his arm.
"'Twill be cool on the terrace, a--er--a dish of tea----"

"Nay, nay, sir, alack and no, we have neighbours expected. Sir Oliver
and Lady Rington, Mrs. Wadhurst, and Lady Lydia Flyte--and that minds
me, naughty Bet, you were to have gone a-riding to-day with Mr. Dalroyd
and Sir Jasper--they called expectant and you were not! Then came poor
young Mr. Marchdale, in a great taking, to know if you'd object to his
rhyming 'Bet' with 'sweat!' The Captain called, too, with dear Sir
Benjamin Tripp--so modish--so elegant! But solemn as two owls, though
why owls should be solemn I don't know never having seen one near
enough! So you see, dear Major, we positively must away!"

The Major, having escorted them to his park gates, stood to watch that
slender, shapely form out of sight, then, sighing, limped slo