Dorothy could not but observe the paleness of his face, and the traces as of recent tears showing about the blue eyes; but she attributed these to other than the real cause,--perhaps to matters arising between his mother and himself after their long separation. "I am glad you have missed me sufficiently to make the time seem long to you, Dot," he replied, well aware, in the bitterness of his own heart, of how little this had to do with her show of emotion. "Aye, I have missed you very much," she declared earnestly. "And so many sad things have happened since!" "Yes--and so many that are not sad," he added significantly, desiring, since he might be expected to speak of her marriage, to have it over with. A burning blush deepened the color in her cheeks. She drew away the hands he had been holding all this time, her eyes fell, and she seemed scarcely to know how to reply. "I pray God you will be very happy, Dorothy." And his speaking her full name accentuated the gravity of his voice and manner. "Thank you, Hugh," she replied, trying to smile: then, with a nervous laugh, "And when you return to Marblehead and see Polly Chine, I hope I may say the same to you." The young man forced a laugh that well-nigh choked him. It had been hard enough to endure before he saw her. But even when he knew from her brother of her being forced into a marriage with this Britisher, his heart refused to relinquish all hope, despite what his friend had told him of Dorothy's own feeling toward her husband. But he had still cherished the idea that somehow, in some way, they might never come together again; that the Britisher, believing Dorothy to have no love for him, might sail away to England without her, should the fortune of war spare him to do this. He also reckoned--hoped, rather--that the girl was so young as to recover from any sentiment this stranger might have awakened within her heart. But now, in the light of what had come about and was soon to be, all hope was dead for him. The sight of the face and form he had never loved so well as now,--when she seemed so sweet and so lovable in her newly acquired womanliness--all this was unnerving him. With these thoughts whirling through his brain, he stood looking at her, while he forced such an unnatural laugh as made her glance at him nervously and draw herself away. "I'm not like to see the old town for many a long day, I fear," he managed to say, his voice growing less strained as he saw the wondering look in her dark eyes; "and as for Polly Chine, you must find one more suited to my taste before you 've cause to wish me what I now wish you with all my heart." With this he turned hastily away, and his mother asked, "You are going to get ready to start for Cambridge, child?" "Yes," replied Dorothy, "I must leave at once." "And can I do aught to help?" the good woman inquired.