'Dr. Heriot has done nothing to deserve your scorn,' returned Mildred, but her cheek flushed a little. Did she know that instinctively Ethel had guessed her secret, that her generous heart throbbed with sympathy for a pain which, hidden as it was, was plainly legible to her clear-sightedness? 'We ought all to be glad that he has found comfort at last,' she said, a little unsteadily. Ethel darted a singular look at her, admiring, yet full of pain. 'I am not so short-sighted as you. I am sorry for a good man's mistake--for it is a mistake, whatever you may say, Mildred. Polly is pretty and good, but she is not good enough for him. And then, he is more than double her age!' 'I thought that would be an additional virtue in your eyes,' returned Mildred, pointedly. She was sufficiently mistress of herself and secure enough in her quiet strength to be able to retaliate in a gentle womanly way. Ethel coloured and changed her ground. 'They have nothing in common. She is nice, but then she is not clever; you know yourself that her abilities are not above the average, Mildred.' 'Dr. Heriot does not like clever women, he has often said so; Olive would not suit him at all.' 'I never thought of Olive,' in a piqued voice. Ethel was losing her temper over Mildred's calmness. 'I am aware plain people are not to his taste.' 'No, Polly pleases him there; and then, she is so sweet.' 'I should have thought him the last man to care for insipid sweetness,' began Ethel, stormily, but Mildred stopped her with unusual warmth. 'You are wrong there; there is nothing insipid about Polly; she is bright, and good, and true-hearted; you undervalue his choice when you say such things, Ethel. Polly's extreme youthfulness and gaiety of spirits have misled you.' 'How lovingly you defend your favourite, Mildred; you shall not hear another word in her disparagement. What does he call her? Mary?' 'No, Polly; but I believe he has plenty of pet names for her.' 'Yes, he will pet her--ah, I understand, and I am not to scorn him. I am not to call him foolish, Mildred?' 'Of course not. Why should you?' 'Ah, why should I? Papa, it is time for us to be going; you have talked to Miss Ellison long enough. My pretty bird,' as Polly stole shyly up to them, 'I have not wished you joy yet, but it is not always to be had for the wishing.' 'I wish every one would not be so kind,' stammered Polly. Mr. Trelawny's condescension and elaborate compliments had almost overwhelmed the poor little thing. 'How the child blushes! I wonder you are not afraid of such a grave Mentor, Polly.' 'Oh, no, he is too kind for that--is he not, Aunt Milly?' 'I hope you do not make Mildred the umpire,' replied Ethel, watching them both. 'Oh these men!' she thought to herself, as she dropped the girl's hand; her eyes grew suddenly dim as she stooped and kissed Mildred's pale cheek. 'Good--there is no one worthy of you,' she said to herself; 'he is not--he never will be now.'