"But, my dear," he answered, and he looked at his watch as he spoke, "we shall not have very long to talk of anything this evening. I must go upstairs and look after my traps, if Miss Webster will excuse me, for the cab I ordered will be here in half an hour. You had better come with me, May." So the two left the room together, and when they were alone John put his arm around May's waist and drew her to his breast and kissed her face. "I know this must seem hard to you, darling, about the name--and having to part so soon--but you see, it would never do to offend my uncle." "Oh! no, no, John!" replied May, fondly, and she flung her arms round his neck as she spoke. "Do you think I would wish to do you any harm? You who have been so good to me, and married me when I was so different in every way to you? Of course, your uncle naturally would resent your marriage to me, but the only thing is--" "What, dear?" "I think I should rather be known to be married among Miss Webster's friends; you see when people are not married--" "Young men are rather apt to fall in love with a very pretty girl, eh, May? Is that what you mean? Well, darling, perhaps you are right; call yourself Mrs. Somebody-else--or no, a brilliant idea has struck me; call yourself Mrs. John!" "Oh, yes, that will do!" cried May, smiling. "Mrs. John! that is charming--then I will bear John's name still--my own John!" She nestled closer to him, and John Temple murmured something about "being unworthy," of which May took no heed. Then in wifelike fashion, she began packing what he required, and he stood watching her with a strange dimness in his eyes, which, however, May did not see. She was thinking all the time how good and noble he was; how he had risked his inheritance for her sake; for May did not know that the Woodlea estates were in truth strictly entailed on John Temple, in the event of the present owner, Mr. Philip Temple, leaving no children. She might have heard this at the time of young Phil Temple's death, but girl's ideas on such subjects are very vague. But she knew John's marriage with her would offend his uncle, and therefore it behooved her for his sake to keep it a secret as long as his uncle lived. By and by they heard a cab stop at the house-door, and the bell rang, and they knew their parting hour had come. May clung to John, and her eyes were wet with tears when they went down-stairs together, and a few minutes later he was gone! And a great blank seemed suddenly to fall on the heart of the poor young bride. But she tried not to show this, and presently said she was tired with her journey, and asked Miss Webster's leave to retire to bed. She kissed both the sisters before she left them, and thanked them in her pretty way for giving her for the present the shelter of their roof.