The bright hope of anticipation lighted Daisy's beautiful eyes. Frank changed his tone to one of the sweetest melody. At least, it sounded so to her ear. "And with one gentle spirit at my hearth to cheer and guide me, the world will be to me as a long day in Paradise. My best and dearest you know what spirit it is that I covet. Will she say me nay?" She did not say anything just now; but the trembling fingers, lying in his hand, entwined themselves confidingly within his. "I know you will get on," she murmured. "You will be great sometime." "Of course I shall, Daisy. And keep carriages and horses for my darling wife; and the queen will knight me when I have gained name and fame; and--and we shall be happier than the live-long day." The bright colours in the sky faded by degrees, leaving the grey twilight in their stead. Before them lay the sloping landscape, not a living soul to be seen on it; immediately behind them was the grove of laurels, shutting them out from view. In this favourable isolation, Frank passed his arm around Daisy's waist, and drew her face to his breast. "Nothing shall ever separate us, Daisy. Nothing in this world." "Nothing," she murmured, speaking between his passionate kisses. "I will be yours always and for ever." "And there will be no trouble," remarked he, in sanguine impulse, as they turned reluctantly from the gate to regain the house. "I mean no opposition. I am my own master, Daisy, accountable to none; and your mother has seen our love and sanctions it." "Oh, do you think she does sanction it?" exclaimed Daisy, drawing a deep breath. "Why, of course she does," replied Frank, speaking in accordance with his belief. "Would Mrs. St. Clare let us linger out together, evening after evening, if she did not see and sanction it? No, there will be neither trouble nor impediment. Life lies before us, Daisy, fair as a happy valley." Tea waited on the table when they got in. Mrs. St. Clare was sleeping still; Lydia looked very cross. Frank glanced at his watch, as if doubting whether he could stay longer. Daisy's pretty hands, the lace meant to shade them falling back, began to busy themselves with the tea-cups. It awoke Mrs. St. Clare. She drew her chair at once to the tea-table. Frank pushed Lydia's light couch towards it. "We were speaking to-day of Eagles' Nest," observed Mrs. St. Clare--and she really did not introduce the subject with any ulterior view; simply as something to talk about. "It's a very nice place, is it not?" "Very--by all accounts," replied Frank. "I have not seen it." "Indeed! Is not that strange?" "My aunt Atkinson has never invited me there. None of us have been invited, except the major. And he has not been there for several years." "How is that? Major Raynor is the next heir." "Well, I scarcely know how it is. He and Mrs. Atkinson are not very good friends. There was some quarrel, I fancy." "Mrs. Atkinson must be very old." "About seventy-four, I believe."