'Child, you must answer me; there must be no shadow between us,' he said, holding her before him. There was a touch of sternness in his voice; but as she raised her eyes appealingly to his, she read there nothing but pity and full understanding; for one moment she stood irresolute, with palpitating heart and white quivering lips, and then she threw herself into his arms. 'Oh, Heriot, what shall I do? What shall I do? I love you both, but I love Roy best.' * * * * * When Mildred re-entered the room, an hour later, somewhat weary of her banishment, she found the two still talking together. Polly was sitting in her little low chair, her cheek resting on her hand. Dr. Heriot seemed speaking earnestly, but as the door opened, he broke off hastily, and the girl started to her feet. 'I must go now,' she whispered; 'don't tell Aunt Milly to-night. Oh, Heriot, I am so happy; this seems like some wonderful dream; I don't half believe it.' 'We must guard each other's confidence. Remember, I have trusted you, Polly,' was his answer, in a low tone. 'Good-night, my dearest child; sleep well, and say a prayer for me.' 'I do--I do pray for you always,' she affirmed, looking at him with her soul in her eyes; but as he merely pressed her hand kindly, she suddenly raised herself on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. 'Dear--dear Heriot, I shall pray for you all my life long.' 'Are you going, Polly?' asked Mildred, in surprise. 'Yes, I am tired. I cannot talk any more to-night,' returned the girl, hastily. Her face was pale, as though, she had been weeping; but her eyes smiled radiantly under the wet lashes. Mildred turned to the fire, somewhat dissatisfied. 'I hope things are right between you and Polly,' she said, anxiously, when she and Dr. Heriot were left alone. 'They have never been more so,' he replied, with a mischievous smile; 'for the first time we thoroughly understand ourselves and each other; she is a dear good child, and deserves to be happy.' But as Mildred, somewhat bewildered at the ambiguous tone, would have questioned him still further, he gently but firmly changed the subject. It was a strange evening to Mildred; outside, the rain lashed the panes. Dr. Heriot had drawn his arm-chair nearer to the glowing fire; he looked spent and weary--some conflicting feelings seemed to fetter him with sadness. Mildred, sitting at her little work-table, scarcely dared to break the silence. Her own voice sounded strange to her. Once when she looked up she saw his eyes were fixed upon her, but he withdrew them again, and relapsed into his old thoughtfulness.