“You think you know, Alice, because you have not got rid of your romance yet. From what I know of my two nephews, I should say they would both make very good husbands in a different sort of way.” Alice dissented very strongly from her uncle, but as she could not have said so without adducing reasons which would have shaken what belief her uncle had in Fred Bingham, which she was determined not to do, she was silent. CHAPTER IX. GONE. CARRY was in unusually low spirits. She had that morning received a letter from Fred Bingham, written from the country. In it he told her that he feared he should be detained three weeks, but that he would make arrangements for the marriage to take place immediately he returned; but that it must be done quietly before a registrar. Carry quite believed that it would be as he said, still she was sick and low at the thought that another month of this wearying deception and secrecy must take place. After the shop was closed for the night, she took a piece of work as usual, but finding that it was in vain to endeavour to keep her attention fixed, and that now and then a tear would fall upon it, she put her work down and took up the “Times,” not for the sake of reading it, but to screen her face from her father. Stephen Walker was smoking his pipe quietly, and was thinking sadly to himself how greatly Carry had changed in the three months, when he was startled by a sharp cry of pain from her, and looking up saw the paper fall from her hands. She had risen to her feet, her eyes stared wildly, and her face was deadly pale. For a moment she stood immoveable, then she tottered, and with a low gasping cry sank back upon the seat, and Stephen Walker was just in time to support her as she fainted. Terribly alarmed at this sudden attack, her father laid her upon the little sofa, and hurried to fetch water to sprinkle her forehead, but it was a long time before there were any signs of returning animation. Then she opened her eyes and looked round wildly, then with a shuddering sigh closed them again, and remained for some time without speaking. At last, in answer to her father's earnest entreaties to speak, she rose into a sitting position, and said, faintly,— “I am better again now, father; I will go up to bed.” She was so weak, however, that she had to accept her father's assistance, and having seen her to her door, the old man returned sadly downstairs.