"My dear laddie, I congratulate you with all my heart," returned Aunt Madge, affectionately, as she grasped his hands. "Livy looks quite dazed, and no wonder," and then a warm flush came to Olivia's cheek. "Dear Marcus, I am so glad, so thankful," she whispered. "Yes, but it will be uphill work at first," he returned, "and I shall have plenty to do. Bevan is not the man he was, Randolph does not seem satisfied about him; but he will pick up when the warm weather comes. Oh, by-the-bye, Livy, I have not told you half yet. Bevan insists on our moving at once; he wants me to take a good house, either in Brunswick Place or Montague Square, or one of those roads leading out of it; it is well that we have that nest egg, the five hundred pounds untouched, it will pay for the necessary furniture, and the first year's rent will be assured." "Yes, indeed," returned Olivia, in a low voice; she was awed and overwhelmed by this unexpected good fortune; but Marcus would not allow any more talking; his professional eyes had already noted the signs of weariness and exhaustion in the invalid. "We must go now," he said, abruptly. "We will talk over details another time; it is no use giving Aunt Madge a bad night," and then Olivia rose reluctantly and put on her wraps. "I shall come to-morrow afternoon and tell you everything," she said, and Mrs. Broderick nodded and smiled. But as they slipped out into the wintry darkness and Olivia took her husband's arm, she said, with a little laugh,-- "I am so glad I have put on my wedding-dress to-night. I ought to be smart for such an occasion. This is our first dinner-party since we have been married." "Then it won't be our last," returned Marcus, in a tone of conviction. "I wonder, Livy, whether we shall ever regret those cosy evenings in the dear little room at No. 1, Galvaston Terrace," but Olivia only sighed happily. She was too good a wife to regret anything that led to her husband's advancement. Very likely her cares and responsibilities would be doubled. She would have less of Marcus's society, and the world would have claims upon them. The long three years' honeymoon was over, but, thank God, something else was over too,--the dread of approaching poverty, the sadness of unproductive labour, of work done only for love's sake and without grudging. The following afternoon Mrs. Broderick lay tranquilly in the pleasant fire-lit twilight, awaiting Olivia's promised visit. A pine log was spluttering and diffusing tiny coloured sparks. Zoe lay curled up in a silken ball on the black bearskin rug, and Olivia's favourite low chair had been wheeled to the foot of the couch, the tea-things were on the table, and the brass trivet on the fender was suggestive of hot buttered scones. "Oh, Aunt Madge, how cosy you look," were Olivia's first words. "May I take off my hat and jacket? I am going to stay a long time, and Marcus hopes to come round presently."