“We’ll go to-morrow,” he assented at once. “Er--that is, I’ll write and ask----” He stopped. “Lord Clydesfold!” she finished; and there was something like bitterness in her voice. “Can we not go without troubling him, dear? He----” She paused for a second. “Why should he care where or when we go?” “He is all that is good and true and generous!” he said, gently. “Yes, I know,” she assented, wearily, or with an affectation of weariness. “I know there is no one in the world to compare with him; but I think we have troubled him enough.” He looked at her with a puzzled stare; fathers seldom understand their daughters’ heart-moods. They remained silent until they reached the hotel, then he said: “Go in and rest in the drawing-room before you go upstairs, and I will bring you a glass of wine.” She opened the door listlessly, and stopped with a start. For some one had risen from a seat, and was advancing toward her with outstretched hand, and her name upon his lips. “Olivia!” The cloak dropped from her shoulder, and revealed her graceful, girlish form, in its exquisite dress, against which her white skin shone like ivory faintly flushed with rose, and her lovely face went pale and then flushed, and her eyes dilated. He came forward in his sable-lined traveling-ulster, his handsome face no longer haggard and careworn, as she had seen it last, but eloquent of youth and strength, and--ah, of love and hope! “Olivia!” She could not move for a moment; then, panting, she held out her hand. “You! When--when did you come?” “To-night. I have been waiting.” “Papa--I will fetch him,” she breathed. His hand gripped hers, his eyes feasted on her face. “No, I can wait a while.” She felt that she must go on speaking or--what? Fall into his arms? Throw herself at his feet? “I hope--I hope you had a pleasant journey?” “Very! It snowed all the time. I have been ten months on the road.” Her eyes drooped. “Have--have you come to stay?” she faltered. “No,” he said; “I am going on to the South.” Her heart suddenly seemed to grow cold, and heavy as lead. “Why--why did you come?” “I came for you!” he answered. And as he spoke he drew her toward him, and took her in his strong arms, and crushed her dainty lace and shimmering satin against his breast, so close that he could feel the throbbing of her heart as it beat wildly and passionately against his own, could feel her hair against his face. “Oh--oh, let me go!” she panted; but--was it fancy?--she seemed to nestle closer, even as she spoke. “Let me go!” “Ah, no, never again!” he answered in the low accents of passion--passion that had been suppressed for ten months and longer. “Never again unless you tell me that you do not love me; then I will go forever! What do you say, Olivia? Ah, I won’t shame your sweet trustfulness by asking. Kiss me, my darling! Give me the kiss that I have been thirsting for so long--so long.”