"Promise me to come back," she whispered, with her cheek against his. "I promise," said John, after a moment's pause, for he felt he could not resist her appeal. "And do not quite forget me when you are away." "Forget you!" cried John, and he caught her passionately to his breast; "would that I could, May! It would be better for you and me--but the die is cast!" She was still in his arms, with her head on his breast, when the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel outside was distinctly heard in the room. May lifted her head and gave a cry; John looked sharply around. "If it is your father, whatever shall we do?" May, girl-like, ran to the mirror; John, man-like, stood helpless. "My hair is not very disorderly, is it?" she said, trying to smooth her soft bright curls. "How odious that they should come!" "What shall I do?" asked John. "Stay until they come in, and then I suppose--" "I will go--good-by, dear May." He clasped her hand for a moment, and then May went to the door to receive her father and his bride. Mrs. Churchill was already in the hall, and was giving orders to the coachman and servants about her luggage; Mr. Churchill was giving orders about the horses. As May went forward Mrs. Churchill saw her, and advanced toward her and kissed her face. "Well, my dear," she said, "here we are. We have had a wet day to travel in, but it makes it all the pleasanter to get home. And how are you?" She was a good-looking, middle-aged woman; robust and dark, with marked dark eyebrows, and a firm, hard mouth. She looked a person of strong will also; somehow her very voice told you this. "William," she called out in a loud tone to her husband, "here is your daughter." Upon this Mr. Churchill came into the hall, and kissed May also. "Well, my dear," he said, kindly, "and how have you been getting on?" "Mr. Temple is in the drawing-room, father," said May, nervously. "What--the squire?" "No, Mr. John Temple." But John by this time had appeared. He went up to Mr. Churchill and shook hands with him. "Well, Mr. Churchill, I hear I have to congratulate you," he said, with a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Temple," answered the farmer. "Sarah, my dear, this is Mr. John Temple, our landlord's nephew and heir." Upon this Mrs. Churchill bowed graciously, and after a few more pleasant words, John Temple went away. Then Mrs. Churchill began bustling about the house as if she had lived in it for twenty years. She remarked on the furniture, and decided where she would place her own "things," as she called them. She made no pretense about consulting May in any of her arrangements, but took her place at once as mistress of the house and all that it contained. "But what matter," thought May, softly, as she stood looking out on the still garden on the night of her stepmother's arrival at Woodside. "What matter does anything here now make to me?" CHAPTER XIV. MAY'S STEPMOTHER.