They shook hands and parted, and John walked home alone in the moonlight. There was a delicious sense of life and love in his heart, and he smiled softly as he went on. "I think she likes me," he was thinking; "my little country sweetheart--my country sweetheart." He repeated these words to himself again and again. And again and again also he mentally saw the girl's lovely profile on which the moonlight glimmered as she stood in the window. It was a picture in his mind's eye which never again faded away. There are such pictures that Time's hand can not touch. And this was one of them to John Temple; the sweet girlish face glorified by the pale white beams. When he reached the Hall dinner was over, but we may be sure the heir was not allowed to suffer by this. The butler speedily spread a tempting repast before him, but John did not feel hungry still. He lit a cigar and went out on the terrace, and there his excitement sobered down. Other scenes rose up before him; other hours of passion and love. "I am a fool," he reflected; "a girl's beautiful face has made me feel like a boy." In the meanwhile the girl with the beautiful face was receiving a very unpleasant surprise. She had gone into the house to order her father's supper with a new feeling of joy and radiant hope glowing in her heart. "He loves me," was the sweet thought that flushed her smooth cheeks, and made her bright eyes sparkle. May never doubted this after those brief moments in the moonlight. And she felt a modest pride in the thought. That this good-looking well-born gentleman should care for her made her very happy. He was the first man also that she had really liked. So pretty a girl, of course, got admirers on every side. But admiration does not necessarily win love. A woman may feel flattered when her heart is totally untouched. She ordered her father's supper therefore with a light heart, and went into the dining-room to share it with him gratified and glad. Mr. Churchill also seemed in fairly good spirits, and ate his food with excellent appetite. Then, when the meal was over, he commenced to smoke, and May was just contemplating leaving the room to indulge in her sweet thoughts alone, when her father looked up and addressed her. "May, I went to see Mrs. Bradshaw this afternoon," he said. "Yes," answered May, somewhat indifferently, for the subject of Mrs. Bradshaw was very unpleasant to her. "And we have fixed to be married to-morrow morning," continued Mr. Churchill, in his quiet, determined way. "To-morrow morning!" echoed May, utterly surprised. "Yes, what is the good of waiting? But it is to be quite quiet; she did not wish you even to know until it was over. But you have been a good little daughter to me, and therefore I do not care to keep it a secret from you, and I hope also you will be a good daughter to your new mother." May's face flushed painfully. "She can never be a mother to me," she said.