'Oh yes,' with more blushes, 'he talked to me so beautifully that I could not be afraid any more. He said that for years this had been in his mind, that he had never forgotten how I had wanted to live with him and take care of him, and how he had always called me "his sweet little heartsease" ever since. Oh, Aunt Milly, I know he wants me. It was so sad to hear him talk about his loneliness.' 'You will not let him be lonely any longer. I have lost my Polly, I see.' 'No, no, you must not say so,' throwing her arm round her, only with a sort of bashful pride, very new in Polly; 'he has no one to take care of him but me.' 'Then he shall have our Sunbeam--God bless her!' and Mildred kissed her proudly. 'I hope you did not tell him he was old, Polly.' 'He asked me if I thought him so, and of course I said it was only I who was too young.' 'And what did he say to that?' 'He laughed, and said it was a fault that I should soon mend, but that he meant to be very proud as well as fond of his child-wife. Do you know, he actually thinks me pretty, Aunt Milly.' 'He is right; you are pretty--very pretty, Polly,' she repeated, absently. She was saying in her own heart 'Dr. Heriot's wife--John Heriot's child-wife'--over and over again. 'Roy never would tell me so, because he said it would make me vain. Roy will be glad about this, will he not, Aunt Milly?' 'I do not know; nay, I hope so, my darling.' 'And Richard, and all of them; they are so fond of Dr. Heriot. Do you remember how often they have joked him about Heriot's Choice?' 'Yes, I remember.' A sudden spasm crossed Mildred's gentle face, but she soon controlled herself. She must get used to these sharp pangs, these recollections of the happy, innocent past; she had misunderstood her friend, that was all. 'Dear Aunt Milly, make me worthier of his love,' whispered the girl, with tears in her eyes; 'he is so noble, my benefactor, my almost father, and now he is going to make me his wife, and I am so young and childish.' And she clung to Mildred, quivering with vague irrepressible emotion. 'Hush, you will be his sunbeam, as you have been ours. What did he call you--his heartsease? You must keep that name, my pet.' 'But--but you will teach me, he thinks so much of you; he says you are the gentlest, and the wisest, and the dearest friend he has ever had. Where are you going, Aunt Milly?' for Mildred had gently disengaged herself from the girl's embrace. 'Hush, we ought to go down; you must not keep me any longer, dear Polly; he will expect--it is my duty to see him.' Mildred was adjusting her hair and dress with cold, shaking fingers, while Polly stood by and shyly helped her. 'It does not matter how you look,' the girl had said, with innocent unconscious sarcasm; 'you are so tired, the tumbled gray alpaca will do for to-night.' 'No, it does not matter how I look,' replied Mildred, calmly.