"Oh, if you can only obtain it for me! I shall be so thankful, for mamma's sake." "But it is not as a governess." "Not as a governess! What then?" "As a housekeeper." "Oh dear!" cried Alice in dismay. "I don't know very much about housekeeping. People would not think me old enough." "And as a wife." She did not understand him. He was rising from his seat to approach her, a smile on his face. Alice sat looking at him with parted lips. "As _my_ wife, Alice," he said, bending low. "Oh, my dear, surely our foolish estrangement may end! I have been wishing it for some time past. I am tired of chambers, and want to set up a home for myself. I want a wife in it. Alice, if you will be that wife, well: otherwise I shall probably remain as I am for ever." Ah, there could be no longer any doubt: he was in earnest. His tender tones, his beseeching eyes, the warm clasp of his hands, told her all the happy truth--his love was her own still. She burst into tears of emotion, and William Stane kissed them away. "You don't despise me because I have been a governess?" she sobbed. "My darling, I only love you the better for it. And shall prize you more." He sat down by her side and quietly told her all. That for a considerable period after their parting, he had steeled his heart against her, and done his best to drive her from it. He thought he had succeeded. He believed he should have succeeded but for meeting her again at Mrs. Preen's. That showed him that she was just as dear to him as ever. Still he strove against his love; but he continued his visits to the Preens, who were old friends of his and each time, that he chanced to see Alice, served to convince him more and more that he could not part with her. He was about to tell his father that he had made up his mind to marry Miss Raynor, when Sir Philip died, and then he did not speak to Alice quite immediately. All this he explained to her. "And but for your coming into this house, Alice, and my opportunities of seeing you in it, we should in all human probability have remained estranged throughout life. So, you see that I would not have had you not become a governess for the world." She smiled through her tears. "It was not in that light I spoke." "I am aware of it. But you are more fitted to make a good wife now, after your experiences and your trials, than you would have been in the old prosperous days at Eagles' Nest. I shall be especially glad for one thing--that when you are mine I shall have a right to ease your mother's straits and difficulties. She has deemed me very hard-hearted, I dare say: but I have often and often thought of her, and wished I had a plea for calling on and helping her." His intention showed a good heart. But William Stane and Alice were both ignorant of one great fact--that Mrs. Raynor no longer needed help. She would shortly be back again at Eagles' Nest, all her struggles with poverty over.