Ah! no; it did not matter! Mildred's happiness seemed too great to be affected by that, or any other earthly thing. Mrs. George Arkell kissed her fondly three or four times as she entered, and pressed her hand, as Mildred thought, significantly. Another moment, and she found her hand taken by William. He was shaking it just as usual, and his greeting was a careless one-- "How d'ye do, Mildred? You are late." Neither by word, or tone, or look, did he impart a consciousness of what had passed. In the first moment Mildred felt thankful for the outward indifference, but the next she caught herself thinking that he seemed to take her consent as a matter of course--as if it were not worth the asking. When tea was over, and the lights were brought, Mr. and Mrs. Arkell and Mrs. Dan sat down to cribbage, the only game any of the three ever played at. "Who will come and be fourth?" asked Mr. Arkell, looking over his spectacles at the rest. "You, Mildred?" It had fallen to Mildred's lot lately to be the fourth at these meetings, for Miss Travice always held aloof, and William never played if he could help it; but on this evening Mildred hesitated, and before she could assent--as she would finally have done--Miss Travice sprang forward. "I will, dear Mr. Arkell--I will play with you to-night." "She knows of it, and is leaving us alone," thought Mildred. "How kind of her it is! I fear I have misjudged her." "I say, Mildred," began William, as they sat apart, his tone dropped to confidence, his voice to a whisper, "did my mother call at your house this afternoon?" Mildred looked down, and began to play with her pretty gold neckchain. It was one William had given her on her last birthday, nearly a year ago. "My aunt called, I believe. I was out." William's face fell. "Then I suppose you have not heard anything--anything particular? I'm sure I thought she had been to tell you. She was out ever so long." "Mamma said that Aunt George had been--had been--speaking to her," returned Mildred, not very well knowing how to make the admission. William saw the confusion, and read it aright. "Ah, Mildred! you sly girl, you know all, and won't tell!" he cried, taking her hand half-fondly, half-playfully, and retaining it in his. She could not answer; but the blush on her cheek was so bright, the downcast look so tender, that William Arkell gazed at her lovingly, and thought he had never seen his cousin's face so near akin to perfect beauty. Mildred glanced up to see his gaze of fond admiration. "Your cheek tells tales, cousin mine," he whispered; "I see you have heard all. Don't you think it is time I married?" A home question. Mildred's lips broke into a smile by way of answer. "What do you think of my choice?" "People will say you might have made a better." "I don't care if they do," returned Mr. William, firing up. "I have a right to please myself, and I will please myself. I am not taking a wife for other people, meddling mischief-makers!"