in one sense, we never can
really lose them. Nothing in this world, nor, I believe, in any other,
can part those who truly and faithfully love."

I think he was hardly aware how much he was implying, at least not in
its relation to her, else he would not have said it. And he would
surely have noticed, as I did, that the word "love," which had not been
mentioned before--it was "liking," "fond of," "care for," or some such
round-about, childish phrase--the word "love" made Maud start. She
darted from one to the other of us a keen glance of inquiry, and then
turned the colour of a July rose.

Her attitude, her blushes, the shy tremble about her mouth, reminded me
vividly, too vividly, of her mother twenty-eight years ago.

Alarmed, I tried to hasten the end of our conversation, lest,
voluntarily or involuntarily, it might produce the very results which,
though they might not have altered John's determination, would almost
have broken his heart.

So, begging her to "kiss and make friends," which Maud did, timidly,
and without attempting further questions, I hurried the father and
daughter into the house; deferring for mature consideration, the
question whether or not I should trouble John with any too-anxious
doubts of mine concerning her.

As we drove back through Norton Bury, I saw that while her mother and
Lady Oldtower conversed, Maud sat opposite rather more silent than her
wont; but when the ladies dismounted for shopping, she was again the
lively independent Miss Halifax,

"Standing with reluctant feet,
Where womanhood and childhood meet;"

and assuming at once the prerogatives and immunities of both.

Her girlish ladyship at last got tired of silks and ribbons, and stood
with me at the shop-door, amusing herself with commenting on the
passers-by.

These were not so plentiful as I once remembered, though still the old
town wore its old face--appearing fairer than ever, as I myself grew
older. The same Coltham coach stopped at the Lamb Inn, and the same
group of idle loungers took an interest in its disemboguing of its
contents. But railways had done an ill turn to the coach and to poor
Norton Bury: where there used to be six inside passengers, to-day was
turned out only one.

"What a queer-looking little woman! Uncle Phineas, people shouldn't
dress so fine as that when they are old."

Maud's criticism was scarcely unjust. The light-coloured flimsy gown,
shorter than even Co