"Oh, mother," replied the girl, with a heavy sigh, "I know that there was no formal betrothal between Le and myself--but--but--we all knew, you and father and Le and I--all knew--and always knew that we two belonged to each other and would always belong to each other all our lives. Le and I never thought of any other fate." "Idle, childish fancies, my poor little girl! too trivial to cause you these tears. Wipe them away, and look clearly at the higher destiny, more worthy of your birth and beauty," murmured the lady, pressing her ripe, red lips upon the pale brow of her darling. "Oh, mother, I do not _want_ a higher destiny! I do not want _any_ destiny apart from Le. And these are _not_ childish fancies, and _not_ trivial to me! Oh, think, mother, Le and I were playmates as far back in my life as I can remember. We loved each other better than we loved any one else in the whole world. You and father used to laugh at us and pretend to be jealous; but we saw that you were pleased all the time; for you both intended us for each other, and we knew it, too, for father used to say when he saw how inseparable we two were: 'So much the better; I hope their hearts will not be estranged when they grow up!' And our hearts have never become estranged from each other!" "Oh, yes, dearest, I know that there was some speculative talk when you were children of uniting you and Leonidas, so that the name of Force might not die out from Mondreer. But I never really approved of marrying cousins, Odalite, merely to keep the family name on the family estate." "But, mother, darling, Le and I never thought of the family name and estate; we only thought of one another. And, besides, we are such very, very distant cousins--only fourth or fifth, I think--that that objection could never be raised. Oh, mother! dear mother! do not compel me to break with Le! I cannot! I cannot! Oh, indeed, I cannot!" she cried, burying her face in the lady's bosom. Elfrida Force caressed her daughter in silence. Presently Odalite lifted her head and pleaded: "He is coming home so soon now, and so full of hope! He expects to be here by Christmas; and he expects--oh, yes, I know by his last letter that he expects to--to--to----" The girl's eyes fell under the compassionate yet scrutinizing gaze of her mother, and her voice faltered into silence. "To marry you early in the new year, I suppose you mean, dear." "Yes, mother." "He did not say so." "No, mother, dear, he did not say so, in so many words, but from the whole tone of his letter he evidently meant so. Father thought he did, and even tried to tease me about the New Year's wedding--asking me how many hundreds I should need to buy my wedding clothes." "What was it he said in his letter that leads you to suppose he has any such expectations? I confess that I saw nothing of such an intention when I read the letter."