“I understand,” said the earl, his face beaming. “Our love is too sacred to be proclaimed on the instant we acknowledge it ourselves. We will keep it secret until after Lady Wynde’s marriage; but we are promised, darling! Our happiness would be complete if we could know beyond all doubt that Sir Harold smiles upon our union. And why should he not smile upon our marriage from his home in Heaven? He loved me, Neva, and he desired our marriage. My father told me this on his death-bed.” “If I could think so!” breathed Neva. “I know papa loved you, Arthur. Do you think he would really approve our marriage?” “What an anxious little face! I know he would approve it, Neva. My blessed little darling, mine own, whom no one can take from me!” cried Lord Towyn passionately. “I am going home to dine with Sir John, and I will call upon you this evening. I am going to exact a lover’s privilege of seeing you when I please, without the cold, prying eyes of Mrs. Artress devouring me. I will be prudent and secret, Neva, since you insist upon it, but oh, if my month of probation were over and I might proclaim my happiness to the world!” They parted near the lodge gates, and Neva returned slowly toward the house, while her young lover vaulted into his saddle and rejoined his friends with a countenance so rapturous that they could not avoid knowing that he had confessed his love to Neva and had not been rejected. While they overwhelmed him with congratulations, which he tried to disclaim as altogether premature, Neva’s mind was divided between joy and grief, and she murmured: “What shall I do? What is right for me to do? I love Arthur, and life will not be complete without him. Shall I, for the sake of that love, disregard papa’s last wishes which I vowed to accept as sacred commands? Oh, if I only knew what to do!” CHAPTER XX. WAS IT A DREAM? As the time appointed for the marriage of Lady Wynde and Craven Black drew near, great preparations were entered upon for its celebration. One would have thought, from the scale of the arrangements on foot, that the heiress of Hawkhurst was to be the bride, rather than the baronet’s widow. Dress-makers came down from London, boxes were sent to and fro, new jewels from Emanuel’s or Ryder’s, were selected to replace the Wynde family jewels, which Mr. Atkins had compelled the handsome widow to yield up to her step-daughter, and Artress made a special trip to Brussels for laces, and to Paris for delicate and sumptuous novelties in attire. One or two of Madame Elise’s best work women spent several days at Hawkhurst in fitting robes, and Lady Wynde, with Neva, Artress and two maids, spent a week in London at the long-closed town house of Sir Harold.