She sat in the moonlight thinking for a long time after he left; what was there in that closing speech which sent a chill over her? Only this—love is said to be blind—as to worldly judgment this is true; but love’s intuition of love grows keen with the development of the passion. She felt that she ought to be happy, but she was not—that is—not so very happy; little thrilling thoughts ran through her mind deliciously, then a cold wave of doubt, casting a chill over her spirits. A woman is flattered and pleased if a man makes her a sharer of his secrets, whether of business or otherwise; she thus knows that he fully trusts her love and judgment, and she holds it a sacred charge. She thought uneasily that she could have no fond anticipations with any certainty of their proving a reality. Whatever she built must be the very airiest kind of an air castle, its only foundation an engagement which seemed like a burlesque. Vague allusions, or even words of endearment do not form a very tangible ground upon which to build. A restless sigh escaped her lips: “I wish——” The unfinished sentence ended with another sigh. The next evening she waited for Ned in a state of impatient restlessness, she had determined to have a nice long talk with him, although she was not in anywise certain as to what she would say; she thought she would lead him to talk of the future, and the home of which he had spoken; she wondered if he would talk of it frankly, or would he evade her questions as he so often had done, as though he did not comprehend her remark. She watched the clock anxiously; she walked down the path to the gate a dozen times; she took up her embroidery, set a half-dozen stitches, and laid it down in disgust; she took a book instead, turned a page or two without comprehending a word and tossed it aside with an exclamation of impatience, to restlessly drum on the window. “Merna, what ails you?” asked her mother querulously. “Oh, my head aches,” was the evasive reply. “You had best go to bed; you make me nervous, fidgeting around so!” “It is too early to go to bed! I’ll go out in the air a little while—perhaps that will help my head,” answered Merna. “Merna Wood, you have been down to that gate about a dozen times; why don’t you be honest, and say that you are looking for Ned!” half in derision, and a trifle crossly, retorted her mother. Merna answered with mock humility: “Yes’m, I’ll confess, if you will not be cross. Oh, mamsy, I wish he would come; there is something I wish to say to him!” she kneeled down with her head on her mother’s knee, like a little child. Her mother replied laughingly: “It appears to me that you do usually have something to say to him,” but her hand wandered caressingly through the soft, bright hair; thus evidencing her sympathy.