"I have been thinking of your dear mother, Leonard: _my_ mother, for she has been more to me than one mother in a hundred is to her daughter. She is with us to-day--a part of our lives--very frail and feeble, but still our own. Where will she be next New Year's day?" "Ah, Belle, that's a bad look out for both of us," answered Leonard, seating himself in his mother's empty chair. "I'm afraid she won't last out the year that begins to-day. But she has seemed brighter and happier lately, hasn't she?" "Yes, I think she has been happier," said Christabel. "Do you know why?" His cousin did not answer him. She sat with her face bent over her dog, hiding her tears on Randie's sleek black head. "I think I know why the mother has been so tranquil in her mind lately, Belle," said Leonard, with unusual earnestness, "and I think you know just as well as I do. She has seen you and me more friendly together--more cousinly--and she has looked forward to the fulfilment of an old wish and dream of hers. She has looked for the speedy realization of that wish, Belle, although six months ago it seemed hopeless. She wants to see the two people she loves best on earth united, before she is taken away. It would make the close of her life happy, if she could see my happiness secure. I believe you know that, Belle." "Yes, I know that it is so. But that can never be." "That is a hard saying, Christabel. Half a year ago I asked you a question, and you said no. Many a man in my position would have been too proud to run the risk of a second refusal. He would have gone away in a huff and found comfort somewhere else. But I knew that there was only one woman in the world who could make me happy, and I waited for her. You must own that I have been patient, have I not, Belle?" "You have been very devoted to your dear mother--very good to me. I cannot deny that, Leonard," Christabel answered gravely. She had dried her tears, and lifted her head from the dog's neck, and sat looking straight at the fire, self-possessed and sad. It seemed to her as if all possibility of happiness had gone out of her life. "Am I to have no reward?" asked Leonard. "You know with what hope I have waited--you know that our marriage would make my mother happy, that it would make the end of her life a festival. You owe me nothing, but you owe her something. That is sueing _in formâ pauperis_, isn't it, Belle? But I have no pride where you are concerned." "You ask me to be your wife; you don't even ask if I love you," said Christabel, bitterly. "What if I were to say yes, and then tell you afterwards that my heart still belongs to Angus Hamleigh." "You had better tell me that now, if it is so," said Leonard, his face darkening in the firelight.