"Of course it will have to be rather quiet, as we are still in mourning, and so many of Arthur's family are out of town. He will be up to lunch to-day: I asked him to meet you. But he thought--early in July," and she colors a little, smiling, too. "We are to go to Newport, that is, you know, we really could plan nothing until you came. And, oh, Floyd, it will be so delightful to have Madame Lepelletier! We have been talking it over, and she will help me do my shopping. She is just as good as she is lovely. But if you only could have ordered me some things in Paris!" "Why, I never bought any such thing in my life," says Floyd, laughingly. "But I have some trinkets among my luggage that you may like, gems and cameos, and some curious bracelets. I did remember that I had some sisters at home." "Oh, you are really charming! You cannot imagine how doleful we have been. Eugene could not do anything about the money, and he has been in a worry with Mr. Wilmarth and cross if any one said a word." Floyd laughs at this. The idea of Eugene being cross is amusing. Laura flits out of the room much elated. She and Arthur can settle everything to-day, and the shopping will be so delightful, for Madame Lepelletier is quite as good as a Frenchwoman. Mrs. Grandon sighs, and Floyd looks at her questioningly. "You are so good, Floyd. It is such a relief to have you. I only hope the business will not weary you out, and that--there will be no real trouble." He kisses Cecil's little hand that is wandering through his beard, and presses her closer as she sits quietly on his knee. "I shall think nothing a trouble," he says. "It is father's trust to me. Come, you must be gay and happy, and not cloud Laura's wedding with forebodings. Let us take a tour through the house now. I am quite curious to know if I have remembered it rightly." "I wonder if you can find your way. I must look after the luncheon." "Oh, yes," he replies. "I think there is no labyrinth." On one side of the hall there is the long drawing-room, and a smaller apartment that might be a conservatory it is so full of windows, or a library, but it is a sort of sitting-room at present. Then the tower, that has a large entrance, and might be the facade, if one pleased. An oaken stairway winds a little to the room above, which is empty but for a few chairs and a bamboo settee. Up again to another lovely room, and then it is crowned by an observatory. From here the prospect is magnificent. The towns above, that dot the river's edge, and the long stretch below, are like a panorama. How wonderfully changed! How busy and thriving this new world is! He thinks of the leagues and leagues he has traversed where a mill or a factory would be an unknown problem, and the listless stupor of content is over all. Yet buried in the sand or under ruins is the history of ages as prosperous, as intellectual, and as wise. How strange a thing the world of life really is!