"May God bless you," murmured Webster, and the next moment he was gone. And he left May strangely disturbed. His constant kindness, his generosity in word and deed, and now his unselfish love, moved her deeply. But she had not much time for thought. She had scarcely indeed returned to her duties in the wards when another message was brought to her that a second visitor was waiting for her in the house surgeon's room, and the moment she heard this she knew who it would be. It was in truth John Temple; and as she entered the room pale, nervous, beautiful, he advanced toward her and took her in his arms. "How could you give me all that bitter pain, May?" were his first words, and then he bent down and kissed her lips. "You know that I am free now," he said, presently. "I have seen your father, and have arranged with him that we shall be married again immediately. But May, I will never believe that you really loved me now." She looked at him with eyes full of reproach. "I--I meant to die," she faltered. "But for Mr. Webster--" "Do not, please, speak of it; you are looking very well; as pretty as ever, I think, May; and you must forget all this like a bad dream. Do you know my poor uncle is dead?" "I never heard of it; I have lived here, and--never spoken of the past." "He is dead, poor man; he died quite suddenly, and I was recalled to England in consequence. I am living at Woodlea now, and you must go there, May." "Oh! it seems so strange--all so strange, John." She put her hand half-timidly into his as she spoke, and as she said it was all so strange. A long lifetime appeared to lie between her and the early days of her fond love and happiness. She looked up in John's face; it seemed changed, too, but he was very kind and gentle to her. "You must change this becoming dress," he said, smiling, and laying his hand on her black gown. "The cap suits you charmingly, but it won't do for you now, you know. You will want some money, May, so I have brought it for you." "Oh, how can you talk of such things--just when we have met again." "My child, it was your own fault that we ever parted. However, we had best agree to drop this subject forever; no one knows of it but one person, and for my sake I think she will keep the secret." "And--my father?" "Oh, I was forced to tell him a garbled sort of story, but, of course, we may depend on his secrecy. He will be present at your second wedding, May, and will give you away." May gave a tremulous little sigh. She was remembering her first wedding, and her infinite love and trust. "Your father will be here presently, I expect," went on John Temple, "and I think you had better stay with him until we are married. We can be married the day after to-morrow by special license, but not to-morrow."