Mrs. Lawton was piteously inquiring of heaven, which she seemingly located in the far corner of the ceiling, near the biggest stain: "Why had she permitted Sybil to leave her alone, to face the contretemps that was sure to occur in her most desolate hour?" ignoring the fact that her "desolate hour" had been carefully contrived by herself. Galt, catching sight of Mr. Lawton, went to him, and, taking his arm, led him out across the porch and drive down to the great old willow, whose mighty drooping made a gray green tent of privacy. Then he seated him, and, taking off his own hat, he stood before the older man, who, though looking at him with anxious eyes, yet noted the erect figure, the clear gaze, and rather stern, well-featured face, and thought him a goodly sight. A moment of silence, then Leslie said, slowly: "Mr. Lawton, you have shown me great kindness, and I----" The old man held up his hand, saying, with quick deprecation: "No! no! Without power, one can show kindness to no man! I like you, my lad! I shall be grateful to you all my life, but I have done you no kindness!" Leslie moistened his lips as might a nervous girl: "I--you--" he stammered, then went on eagerly--"How well do you like me, sir? Well enough to trust me with--oh, good God!" he cried, "what's the use of beating about the bush? If you don't know it already, you ought to know that I love your daughter with all my heart, and--don't look at me like that, Mr. Lawton! I know I don't deserve her! But--I'd be true to her, as my father was true to his choice before me! If--if Dorothy tells you that she wishes it so, will you then give her to me, for my wife?" Two slow tears crept into the pale blue eyes. Again there came that piteous, silent movement of the lips, that had so touched Leslie on the day he had rescued the girls from the tunnel accident. "What is it?" asked Galt, gently. "You know who I am--who my father was. You know personally one, at least, of the firm of Gordon, Stone & Wheatleigh, in whose offices I have read and worked, and who have promised--but never mind that now. What troubles you so, sir? My past is an open book for you. Is it a question of age?" John Lawton shook his head, and just then Mr. Bulkley drove through the farthest gate and on up to the house. They paid no heed to that; Galt went on questioning the silent, distressed, old man: "Is it that you cannot trust me--that you doubt the sincerity of my love?" A faint, reproachful smile accompanied a second shake of the head. "Is it----" started Leslie.