The girl lay crying silently, the tears moistening her soft white pillow, as she gazed piteously from time to time at her mother's averted face, half hidden from her by the white curtain she held aside to gaze from the window. "Can you--can you see him coming, mamma?" faltered the girl at last. "Whom? The doctor?" was the cold response, as the curtain was allowed to fall back in its place. "No, I have not sent for one. Why should we publish our shame?" "Our shame, mamma?" "Yes, our shame. Is it not as bitter for me? Live or die, I shall send for no doctor here." Again there was silence, and the elder woman slowly paced the room, till, passing near the bed, a soft white arm stole forth, and caught her hand. "You are very cruel to me, mother. Oh, do look; look again. See if he is coming." "If he is coming!" cried the elder. "Are you mad as well as weak? You will never see him more. Poor fool! I believe even his name is only assumed." "I shall," cried the girl with energy, "and he will come. He loves me too dearly to forsake me now. He is a gentleman and the soul of honour." Her face lit up, and the joyous look of love shone in her eyes as she gazed defiantly at her mother, who looked back at her, half pitying, half mocking her faith. Then, in spite of herself, she started, for steps were heard on the path beneath, and as the girl struggled up once more to her elbow, and craned her neck towards the window, voices were heard speaking at a little distance. "There, there," cried the girl, with a sob of joy, as she sank back laughing hysterically. "What did I say? He loves me--he loves me, and he has come." Mrs Riversley ran to the window, and drew aside the curtain furtively as a couple of young men, gentlemen evidently, and one carrying a trout-rod, walked slowly by, following the winding path that led round by the great gravel-pit in the wood that bordered the stream, and soon after they disappeared amidst the trees. "That was his step," cried the girl at last. "Who was with him, mamma?" "Captain Millet." "Poor Mr Millet!" said the girl softly; and then, with the anxious troubled look fading from her countenance to give place to one of quiet content as a smile played round her lips, she lay very still, with half-closed eyes listening for the returning steps. Twice she started up to listen, but only to sink back again, very calm and patient, her full faith that the man she loved would return beaming from every feature of her handsome young face. "Mother," she said at last softly; and Mrs Riversley turned towards her. "What do you want?" "Is it not time you brought it back to me, mother--that you laid it by my side?" There was no reply, and the girl looked up pleadingly.