opening for her of a new and beautiful chapter. If the hopes of the
earlier days of their acquaintance had lain dormant during the winter,
they now sprang up with the coming life of the spring time, and were
sweet with the promise of the future.

When once Gilbert had found voice to tell his story he was eloquent, and
when once Joyce had given her response there was no further need for
reticence.

"And why did you not write to me?" he asked.

"As I said, because you did not ask me; and then when your uncle came,
he told me that you cared for Miss Anson; and I thought, _half_ thought,
it might be true."

Gilbert made an impatient gesture.

"You only _half_ thought so; you knew, Joyce, you knew better. So," he
went on under his breath, "that is the mischief he went to Fair Acres to
work. My mother soon stopped him from daring to persecute you."

"Mr. Paget and Mr. Gill said there was no lawful claim on poor Melville,
for the money had been lent him to gamble with, and that Lord Maythorne
knew he had no just claim to it."

"Of course he knew it; he thought he would frighten you, and your poor
mother. But let us not speak more of him."

"I wonder what will be done when Melville comes home, for I suppose he
will come home in the summer."

"Yes; perhaps he may have turned over a new leaf, as the children say;
anyhow, I can't help being grateful to Melville."

"To Melville?" she said.

"Yes; for was it not he who invited me to Fair Acres, to find _you_, my
darling."

Then he drew her closer, and with her hand in his arm, they walked
through the quiet fields back to the little city.

The cathedral stood up in a dark mysterious mass against the clear sky.
The last purple gleam was dying from the distant hills which encircle
Wells; Venus hung her silver lamp over the central tower of the
cathedral, and the whole scene was one of infinite peace.

They did not speak of the future, the present was sufficient for them;
but the cry of Joyce's heart, even in its happiness, found words:

"Oh! that my father knew."

"He may know, my darling," Gilbert said; "and I think we may rest in the
certainty that if he were here he would give me a welcome."

"Yes," Joyce said, softly; "yes, I know he would. Oh! dear father."

PART II.

AFTER MANY DAYS.

'Tis Nature's plan
The child should grow into the man;
The man grow wrinkled, old, and grey.
In youth the heart exults and sings,
The pulses l