scarcely turn the
leaves.

"Let me find the place," said Mildred. "There, let me see. Oh, what a
pity, you have lost the four o'clock train, and there isn't another
until seven. Never mind, say you will take that one. You'll arrive at
Bickley at twenty minutes to ten, and soon after ten you'll be at the
Rectory. I'll run at once and send off the telegram, for the sooner
Judy's heart is relieved the better."

Mildred rushed to the davenport, filled in a telegraph-form, and brought
it to Hilda to read.

"There, is that right?" she exclaimed. "Put your name to it if you are
satisfied."

Hilda dashed the tears, which were still blinding her eyes, away.

"Yes, yes," she exclaimed, "that will do. Take it at once, this moment,
before--before I have time to change my mind."

Mildred had written, "Tell Judy to expect me at ten to-night." Hilda
added her name, and Mildred prepared to leave the room.

"Good-by, Hilda," she said. "I won't come back, for you will need all
your time to pack, and to leave things in order for your Jasper.
Good-by, dear. Of course, you could not _think_ of changing your mind,
it would be wicked, cruel; yes, it would be terribly cruel. Good-by,
Hilda, good-by."

Mildred seated herself in the victoria and desired her coachman to drive
to the nearest telegraph-office.

"I have made a discovery," she said, under her breath. "Jasper Quentyns
was not the prince; no, _my_ prince has not yet shown his shining face
above the horizon. Doubtless he will never come; but better that than to
think he has arrived and wake to find him common clay. Hilda is
absolutely _afraid_ of her husband. No, Hilda, I would not be in your
shoes for a good deal."

CHAPTER X.

WAITING.

The days are clear,
Day after day,
When April's here,
That leads to May,
And June
Must follow soon.
Stay, June, stay!
If only we could stop the moon
And June!

It was an April day, but the weather was still cold at Little Staunton,
and Aunt Marjorie thought it well to have a nice bright fire burning in
Judy's bedroom.

Judy was sitting up in bed, her hair was combed back from her face, she
wore a pink dressing-gown, the black shadows under her eyes were not so
marked as yesterday, her firm little lips had an expression of extreme
and touching patience. Judy's movements were somewhat languid, and her
voice when she spoke had lost its high, glad pitch.

Aunt Marjorie kept c