“Randolph!” was all that Beatrice could get out. Somehow the desolation of Monica’s life had never come home to her with quite the same sense of realisation as now, in the hour of her deepest happiness. “He would be glad,” answered Monica, steadily and sweetly. “He loved you dearly, Beatrice; and he and Tom were always such friends. It was his hope that all would come right. If he can see us now, as I often think he can, he will be rejoicing in your happiness now. You must shed no tears to-night, dearest, unless they are tears of happiness.” Beatrice suddenly half rose, and hung her arms round Monica. “How can you bear it? How can you bear it? Monica, I think you are an angel. No one in this wide world was ever like you. And to think——” she shuddered strongly and stopped short. “You are excited and over-wrought,” said Monica gently. “You must not let yourself be knocked up, or Tom will scold me when he comes back. See, Haddon is waking up. He had such a bad headache, poor boy; I hope he has slept it off. You must tell him the news—it will please him I am sure.” “You tell him,” whispered Beatrice, and slipped away to relieve her over-burdened heart by a burst of tears; for one strange revelation following upon another had tried her more than she had known at the time. Haddon was quietly pleased at the news. He liked Tom; he had fancied that he and Beatrice were not altogether indifferent to each other, so this conclusion did not take him altogether by surprise. He was sorry to think of losing Beatrice, but not as perplexed as he would have been some months before. Life looked different to him now—more serious and earnest. He began to have aspirations of his own. He no longer regarded existence as a sort of pleasant easy game of play. Certainly it seemed as if the course of true love as regarded Beatrice and Tom, after passing its early shoals and quicksands, were to run quietly and smoothly enough now. He came back from St. Maws in time for dinner, and when dessert was put on the table, he announced his plans with the hardihood characteristic of the man. “Aunt Elizabeth is delighted, Beatrice, and so is Raymond,” he said. “I have told them that we will be married almost at once, within two months, at least—oh, you needn’t look like that. I think I’ve waited long enough—pretty well as long as Jacob——” “Did for Leah—and didn’t like her in the end—don’t make that your precedent.”