"And we will yet hope that the dream of your love and of my ambition may be fulfilled in the union of yourself and Odalite in a happy marriage, and the consolidation of Mondreer and Greenbushes in one great manor." "May Heaven grant it, Uncle Abel!" "But, my boy, I wish you to speak to Odalite's mother also on this subject. She must be taken into our counsels." "Oh, most certainly. I shall speak to Aunt Elfrida. But I wish to see Odalite first of all. I have not seen her since I saw her at the altar of All Faith Church on that broken wedding day. Why does she seclude herself so strictly? She is not indisposed. Aunt Elfrida told me she was better and brighter than she had been for many weeks. Why, then, does she keep her room?" inquired Le. "I think, my dear lad, that she is indisposed, in one sense, at least--very much indisposed to meet a mixed company. She joined us yesterday both at dinner and at tea." "But I was not here!" exclaimed Le. "No, you were not here, or you would have seen her. To-day she has kept her room to avoid our visitors. It is a very natural reserve, under the circumstances, as you must admit, Le." "Yes; but now they have all gone. Will she be in the parlor this evening, do you suppose?" "No, my lad. I asked that question of her mother, who told me that Odalite was busily engaged and much interested in making things for the Sunday-school Christmas tree, and so would not come down this evening. But, Le, you may see her to-morrow morning. You will stay all night here, of course," said Mr. Force. "I believe they will expect me home at Greenbushes to-night; but, after all, they are too much accustomed to my eccentric comings and goings to be the least uneasy at my absence; so I think I will please myself and stay, thank you, Uncle Abel," replied the youth. "That is settled, then," said Mr. Force, as he arose to lead the way back to the drawing room. CHAPTER XXXVII LEONIDAS AND ODALITE AGAIN Leonidas arose on the morning of Christmas Eve with one thought predominant in his mind: He should see Odalite--see her for the first time since that eventful day when her marriage with Angus Anglesea was broken at the altar. How would she appear? How would she receive him? Would she consider his friendly and most delicate advance an intrusion? He could not answer this question to himself. Was she really reconciled to her fate? Or was she only, from a sense of honor and of duty, repressing her emotions? He could not judge. Her mother had told him that she was better in health and brighter in spirits than she had been for many weeks. Was this real or assumed on her part? He did not know; but he felt sure that he should discover the truth when he should see her. Now that the villain who had come between them was entirely out of the way--forever and forever out of the way--there need be no reserve, no false shows, between hearts which had never ceased to trust each other, though hers might have ceased to love.