She turned round on the music-stool, however, and bent down to assist Webster in his search, and as she did so for a moment, partly by accident, he laid his hand on hers. It was only a touch, but Aunt Margaret, watching them, saw a glow, a sudden light gleam in Ralph Webster's eyes, and a flush rise to his somewhat sunken cheeks. Then, she looked at the girl's fair face, but it was calm and placid as a summer's day. She had scarcely noticed the touch that had thrilled through his strong frame. Aunt Margaret fidgeted in her seat; she was one of those quiet women who we forget have once been young; forget that they too have had their deep joys, their silent sorrows, their withered hopes. Yet with Margaret Webster this had been so, and there was a green grave in a distant country churchyard, where the one she had loved best lay still in his unbroken sleep. Only a common story, but it made Margaret Webster understand the glow on her nephew's cheeks, and the unruffled pale pink bloom on May's. The man loved and the girl was indifferent, and Miss Webster's gentle heart shrank from the probable pain that Ralph Webster would endure. The idea nerved her to take some action. She waited till May and Aunt Eliza also had retired for the night, and while her nephew went on with his pipe she suddenly broached the subject of his holiday. "Are you not going away at all this year, Ralph?" she asked, "for you see September is drawing to a close." Ralph drew his pipe from his firm lips, and looked steadily at his aunt. "Have you any motive for asking that, Aunt Margaret?" he said. Miss Webster hesitated. Her faded cheeks flushed slightly; her thin hands moved uneasily. "I think you have," went on Ralph Webster. "Well, Ralph, I have," replied Miss Webster, with an effort. "You see Miss Churchill is still with us, and for the present likely to remain, and I am not quite easy in my mind about something. I know nothing, you know, my dear; but still something a little strange, I think, occurred the other day, and I think it better to tell you. You remember Mr. John Temple wrote to ask us to receive his young cousin for a short time? A fortnight, I think he said." Ralph Webster nodded his head; he was listening intently to his aunt's words. "We were only too happy to do this, both Eliza and myself," continued Miss Webster. "We have both the greatest regard and friendship for Mr. John Temple; but the other day I got a letter from him inclosing one for May Churchill, which, of course, I at once gave her, and the same day May gave me a very large letter to inclose to Mr. John Temple. It seemed strange, did it not? As if there were some secret?" Still Ralph did not speak. His dark, marked brows were knitted; he was evidently thinking deeply.