Then Webster took leave of his two aunts, who followed him to the street door, and waited until the cab he whistled for arrived. But just before he left the room he looked back at May; there was a look on her face as if she were thinking of something, but Webster felt vaguely it was not of him. "I am better away," he thought, as he seated himself in the cab and waved his hand to his aunts. But all the same he sighed deeply as he lost sight of Pembridge Terrace. And the week after he was gone seemed very quiet without him to the three ladies there. His comings and goings had made a little stir each day, and he had brought in the news, and it certainly was not so lovely as before. Miss Eliza, however, found consolation in gazing into the shop windows down Westbourne Grove, and Miss Webster in her household duties. And just ten days after he left, news came to May which filled her whole being with excitement. It was contained in a letter from John Temple; a letter duly forwarded under cover to Miss Webster, and placed in May's hand by that lady with a little tremulous sigh. But five minutes after she had received it May returned to the room with a face beaming with joy, and cheeks covered with blushes. "Oh, Miss Webster!" she cried, and ran up impetuously and kissed that kind lady; "John is coming! He is coming to-morrow; there is only one more day to wait, and he will be here!" CHAPTER XXII. NEWS. May was in a state of great excitement all the day after receiving John Temple's letter. She was so restless she could not stay in the house; but it was evidently a happy restlessness. She went out to shop, and bought all sorts of pretty knick-knacks, and sorely troubled Miss Eliza's mind by her extravagance. "Never mind, it won't matter now," she said, sweetly, when Miss Eliza ventured to remonstrate, and there was such a glad look in her eyes as she spoke that her gentle companion had not the heart to say anything further. The truth was that John Temple was not only coming, but in his letter he had told May that they would be married at once. "I am weary of waiting, my Mayflower," he had written, "and am longing for the sight of your dear face and the touch of your dear hand." Sweet, welcome words that thrilled through the girl's heart, making the world all sunshine! May had always trusted John, but she had felt that in her position waiting was very trying, though she had never for a moment blamed him for the delay. She judged his love by hers; his heart by her own. But now it was all over--the anxiety, the uncertainty. John would be with her to-morrow, and her life henceforth would be full of joy. She counted the hours until they should meet, as many a fond, foolish woman has counted them before. She brought out her prettiest frocks; she smiled at her fair reflection in the glass. "How will he think I am looking?" she thought, and she wondered, too, if she would see any change in him.