"You have not written to her?" I said. "Why, no," he answered. "I scarce like to intrude myself on her. She has not seen much of me, you know. Besides, I think a woman would know far better how to break such news. Men are apt to touch a wound roughly, even when they wish to act as gently as possible. No, Cary--I am unwilling to place such a burden on you, but I think it must be one of you." Could he speak of Annas thus, if--I felt bewildered. "Unless," he said, thoughtfully, looking out of the window, where the moon was riding like a queen through the somewhat troubled sky, "unless you think--for you, as a girl, can judge better than I--that Raymond would be the best breaker. Perhaps you do not know that Raymond is not at home? My Lady Inverness writ the news to him, and said she had not spoken either to Mrs Raymond or Miss Keith. She plainly shrank from doing it. Perhaps he would help her to bear it best." "How should he be the best?" I said. "Mrs Raymond might--" "Why, Cary, is it possible you do not know that Raymond and Miss Keith are troth-plight?" "Troth-plight! Mr Raymond! Annas!" I started up in my astonishment. Here was a turning upside down of all my notions! "So that is news to you?" said Ephraim, evidently surprised himself. "Why, I thought you had known it long ago. Of course I must have puzzled you! I see, now." "I never heard a word about it," I said, feeling as though I must be dreaming, and should awake by-and-by. "I always thought--" "You always thought what?" "I thought you cared for Annas," I forced my lips to say. "You thought I cared for Miss Keith?" Ephraim's tone was a stronger negative than any words could have been. "Yes, I cared for her as your friend, and as a woman in trouble, and a woman of fine character: but if you fancied I wished to make her my wife, you were never more mistaken. No, Cary; I fixed on somebody else for that, a long while ago--before I ever saw Miss Keith. May I tell you her name?" Then we were right at first, and it was Fanny. I said, "Yes," as well as I could. "Cary, I never loved, and never shall love, any one but you." I cannot tell you, little book, either what I said, or exactly what happened after that. I only know that the moaning wind outside chanted a triumphal march, and the dying embers on my hearthstone sprang up into a brilliant illumination, and I did not care a straw for all the battles that ever were fought, and envied neither Annas Keith nor anybody else. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Well, Hatty! I did not think you were going to be the old maid of the family!" said my Aunt Kezia. "I did not, either, once," was Hatty's answer, in a low tone, but not a sad one. "Perhaps I was the best one for it, Aunt. At any rate, you and Father will always have one girl to care for you."