ized the opportunity he had so
long been waiting for. Lucilla was sitting alone upon the veranda, with
a book in her hand, but not reading, for her eyes were not on it. She
seemed to be thinking intently of something else. But when Captain Keith
took a seat by her side she welcomed him with a pleasant smile.

"So you leave us to-night," she said. "I hope you have enjoyed your
visit well enough to feel a trifle sorry to go."

"I have enjoyed my visit greatly," he said in reply, "and I should like
to prolong it; but it will not do to play all the time. It seems lonely,
too, to have to go away taking no one with me. To go as Cousin Dick did
this afternoon, with a dear young wife, would not be a hardship; but to
go alone is rather dismal. Don't you think it must be?"

"Yes; I have never tried it, but I should think it was. When mamma died
and papa had to go away on his ship--oh, you don't know how hard it was
to part with him--I still had my brother Max and dear Gracie. I had them
both until a good while after papa came home to stay; so I have never
been all alone."

"And I sincerely hope you never may be," he said. "But do you never feel
as if you would like to have a life companion, such as Maud was given
to-day?"

"A husband, do you mean? No, indeed! for then I should be obliged to
leave my dear father--the best man in the world, the dearest, kindest,
most loving father to me."

"He is all that, I am sure," said Keith; "but, perhaps, some day you may
find that you can love another even better than you love him."

She shook her head dissentingly.

"I can hardly believe it possible. It seems to me that it would just
break my heart to have to leave my father or to be separated from him in
any way."

Keith sighed drearily. "Miss Raymond," he said, "I love you, I love you
devotedly, and if--if you have not given your affection to another,
perhaps in time you may find it possible to return my love. Will you not
let me hope for that?"

"Oh, don't!" she said, half rising to leave him, her face scarlet with
blushes. "I don't know anything about love,--that kind of love,--and my
father has forbidden me to listen to such things and----"

"But he would let you this time, for he gave me permission to speak to
you and--and tell you of my love."

"That is very strange; I don't understand it," she said, sinking back
into her chair with a look of perplexity and distress on her face.
"Ah," brightening a little, "I think pap