"More than anybody in the world," replied Margaret, turning to her; "more than all the rest of the world put together. But I have always said to myself," she addressed Neighbour Tomlin again, "that if it should ever happen that I found myself unable to carry out your wishes, sir, it would be best for me to leave your roof, where all my happiness has come to me." She was very humble, both in speech and demeanour. Neighbour Tomlin looked at her with a puzzled and a grieved expression. "Why, I don't understand you, Margaret," said Neighbour Tomlin. "What wish of mine have you found yourself unable to carry out?" "Only one, sir; but that was a very important one; you desired me to marry Mr. Bethune." "I? Why, you were never more mistaken in your life," replied Neighbour Tomlin, with what Miss Fanny thought was unnecessary energy. "I may have suggested it; I saw you gloomy and unhappy, and I had observed the devotion of the young man. What more natural than for me to suggest that--Margaret! you are giving me a terrible wound!" He turned and went into the library, and Margaret ran after him. It is probable that Nan knows better than any outsider what occurred then. It seems that Margaret, in her excitement, forgot to close the door after her, and Nan was sitting where she could see pretty much everything that happened; and she had a delicious little tale to tell her dear Johnny when she went home, a tale so impossible and romantic that she forgot her own troubles, and fairly glowed with happiness. But it is best not to depend too much on what Nan saw, though her sight was fairly good where her interests were enlisted. Margaret ran after Neighbour Tomlin and seized him by the arm. "Oh, I never meant to wound you," she cried--"you who have been so kind, and so good! Oh, if you could only read my heart, you would forgive me, instantly and forever." "I can read my own heart," said Neighbour Tomlin, "and it has but one feeling for you." "Then kiss me good-bye," she said. "I am going with my father." "If I kiss you," he replied, "you'll not go." She looked at him, and he at her, and she found herself in the focus of a light that enabled her to see everything more clearly. She caught his secret and he hers, and there was no longer any room for misunderstanding. Her father, weak as he was, had been strong enough to provide his daughter with a remedy for the only serious trouble, short of bereavement, that his daughter was ever to know. She refused to return to the parlour, where he awaited her. "Shall I go?" said Neighbour Tomlin. "If you please, sir," said Margaret, with a faint smile. She could hardly realise the change that had so suddenly taken place in her hopes and her plans, so swift and unexpected had it been. Neighbour Tomlin went into the parlour, and made Bridalbin acquainted with the facts.