The earlier days of Sage Portlock's maidenhood had glided peacefully away. She had had her troubles and annoyances like the rest of the world, but they were little, and barely ruffled the even current of her life. She had been troubled somewhat over her sister's love affair with Frank Mallow, and had been Rue's confidante. Now that stormy time had passed away, and she had smiled over the wedding with John Berry, and laughingly accepted her position of Aunt Sage to the two little children that were born. Luke Ross had been her playmate till a tenderer attachment had sprang up as girlhood passed into womanhood, and the boy became a thoughtful man. There was a thrill of pride ready to run through her, making the colour suffuse her cheeks, as she knew that she was loved; and with the thought came a proud elation that made her feel happier than she believed she had ever felt before. But that was all. She loved Luke, she told herself, very dearly, and some day she would be his wife; but she felt happy enough when he went away to London, and somehow, though she used to consider that she was the happiest of women, his calm, trusting letters did not seem to awaken any echoes in her heart; while hers to him were pleasant little bits of gossipping prattle, ending with "the dear love of yours very, very affectionately, Sage." Yes, she was very fond of Luke, she used to say to herself, and by and by they would be so happy together; but she felt in no hurry for by and by to come. Existence was very pleasant as it was, and once she was back in Lawford from the training institution and engaged in the school, she seemed to wish for nothing more. Luke Ross wrote, and twice during his absence there he came home, and they had very pleasant walks and chats, and were very boy-and-girlish together, laughing away till a serious fit would come on, when they discussed the future, the cost of housekeeping, and she laughed merrily again at the idea of being Luke's little housekeeper and wife. But there was no passionate attachment on her side--no tears at meeting or at parting. All was wonderfully matter-of-fact. She was very happy, she felt, and she could see that Luke was, and what more could she desire? Then came the change, and Sage was face to face with the fact that she had promised herself to a man for whom she had never entertained a warmer feeling than that of friendship, or the love of a sister for brother, and that at last she had found her fate. Was it a feeling of rapturous delight? Far from it; for from that day her nights were sleepless, and too often her pillow was wet with the hot tears of her misery and distress.