next Monday then? But it seems such a long time to wait. I
was not trained to patience in childhood, and I find it a difficult task,
learning it now."

"Unless something unforeseen should happen to prevent, you may look for
me on Monday next." I promised, feeling a sort of pity for her in her
lonely condition.

"Just one word more. Your guardian, they tell me, does not attend church
regularly."

"Mr. Winthrop does not profess to be a religious man."

"Could you not influence him to a better life? Have you ever asked him to
accompany you to church?"

"Certainly not. He is a better judge than I as to his duty in the
matter."

"I do not think so. I fear he is drifting very far from his boyhood's
teachings. His mother was a perfect woman, so far as I have been able to
learn."

I looked my surprise; for I had not expected to hear such words from her
lips.

"You must not judge me so harshly," she said, with gentle reproach. "I
hope I am not quite so bad as you think."

"I am very glad you are interested in Mr. Winthrop, for other than
selfish reasons," I said, bluntly.

She bowed her head meekly. "You will try to influence him then in the
matter of church going and other pure endeavors--won't you?"

"I will try," I promised, rather uncertainly.

"And begin at once."

"Yes. I have given you the promise and usually keep my word."

"Then good-bye until next week."

The lamps were lighted when I passed along the oak walk that was my
nearest approach home to Oaklands, and the fact that I had broken my
promise to Mr. Winthrop never again to remain out alone after night
filled me with alarm and self-reproach. I succeeded in gaining the house
unperceived and was in abundant time for dinner, which I feared might
have been served.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE CHANGED HEART.

When I entered the softly illumined dining-room, I was surprised to
find Mr. Winthrop standing near the fire, and gazing into it with a
preoccupied expression. Mrs. Flaxman was sitting in her favorite corner,
a book lying open on her knee, her eyes fixed on Mr. Winthrop somewhat
anxiously. Instinctively I felt something unusual had disturbed their
serenity--the sympathetic influences about me in the air which most of us
know something about, acquainted me with the fact. I was almost beside
Mr. Winthrop when he began to say, "Medoline must not know"--the sentence
was left unfinished, for Mrs. Flaxman seeing me said, abruptly,

"Why, Mr. Wi