“Everything has been settled, and I must accept the judgment of others. Results alone can quite reconcile me to the idea; but at least I have learned to know that I do not always judge best in difficult questions. Arthur wishes to go, and I will not stand in his way. There is only one thing that I want to ask,” and she looked straight at her husband. “What is that, Monica?” “I want you to go with him, Randolph.” “You want me to go with him?” “Yes, to settle him in his new quarters, and to come and tell me all about it, and how he has borne the journey. Tom will not be back for weeks—and I don’t know if I quite trust Tom’s truthfulness. Will you go too, Randolph? I shall be happier if I know he is in your keeping as well.” He looked at her earnestly. Did she wish to get rid of him for a time? Was his presence distasteful to her after this last act of his? He could not tell, but his heart was heavy as he gave the required assent. “I will do as you wish, Monica. If you do not mind being a few days alone at Trevlyn, I will go with Arthur. It is the least I can do, I suppose, after taking him away from you.” “Thank you, Randolph,” she said, with one more of those inexplicable glances. “I need not be alone at Trevlyn. Aunt Elizabeth will come, I am sure, and stay with me;” and she went quietly away without another word. “I say, Trevlyn, you have tamed my lady pretty considerably,” remarked Tom, when the men were alone together. “I expected no end of a shine when she found out, and she yields the point like a lamb. Seems to me you’ve cast a pretty good spell over her during the short time you’ve had her in hand.” Randolph pulled thoughtfully at his moustache as he turned again to the papers on the table. He did not reply directly to Tom’s remark, but presently observed, rather as if it were the outcome of his own thoughts: “All the same, I would give a good deal if one of my first acts after coming into the property were not to banish Arthur from Trevlyn for a considerable and indeterminate time.” “Oh, bosh!” ejaculated Tom, taking up Bradshaw again. “Why, even Monica would never put a construction like that upon this business.” This day and the next flew by as if on wings. There was so much to think of, so much to do, and Monica had Arthur so much upon her mind, that she found no opportunity to say to Randolph what she had purposed doing in the heat of the moment. Speech was still an effort to her; her reserve was too deep to be easily overcome. She was busy and he was pre-occupied. When he returned she would tell him all, and thank him for his generous goodness towards her boy. “Monica,” said Arthur, as she came to bid him good-night upon the eve of his journey—he had had a soothing draught administered, and was no longer excited, but quiet and drowsy—“Monica, you will be quite happy, will you not, with only Randolph now? You love him very much, don’t you?” She bent her head and kissed him.