Christine filled up the pause, her voice more dreary and inclined to "drop into the cellar" than ever. Clara looked sobered and disappointed at this unexpected comment, but attributed it to a sudden recollection of Christine's own "what might have been." "What makes you so sad, Christine? Is Mr. Muldweber really sinking as fast as Mrs. Wardor thinks?" "Sinking fast, child; only the promise that his son shall be brought here, if among the living, before the moon fades, has kept the old man alive." "Oh! Christine, stay and be glad with me now," pleaded Clara, "the time for mourning will come soon enough." But Christine could not be made to rejoice, and all the comment she made on the other's enthusiasm was, "Oh! Lady Clara Vere de Vere, You put strange memories in my head." And Clara flew up-stairs to dream over this broadening flood of sunshine as she had dreamed over the first faint glinting. Had not Miss Barbara been strangely absent-minded about this time, she must have observed how the color in Clara's cheek grew brighter, and her eyes held a deeper, richer light. And if any expression so soft as a "dreamy look" could ever have stolen into this positive young lady's face, one would certainly have said it was there now, though it vanished like a dream, too, whenever the Indian girl's impish laugh fell on her ears. The Indian girl herself seemed to be the only member of the family that was not more or less _distrait_ after the arrival of Mr. Farnsworth's last letter, for even Kickup showed resentment at Miss Barbara's sudden neglect of her "saddle horse." It was only natural that Mrs. Wardor's mind should be on hospitable cares intent, which accounted for her being oblivious to a good many things going on around her. Saturday had been named by Mr. Farnsworth as the day on which he was to be expected, and as the members of the family arose from the breakfast-table that morning, Miss Barbara astonished Mrs. Wardor by a demand for her mother's diamonds, to wear in honor of her father's coming. "Nonsense, child," said Mrs. Wardor; "what would the young gentleman coming with your father think, to see a school-girl loaded down with diamonds? Leave them in my trunk; they are better there. You might take a notion to have a romp with Kickup before taking them off, and they would be scattered in the meadow." But Miss Barbara was determined to carry her point, and broke out at last, the rebellious blood rising to her head, "I think I should be allowed to have them, at any rate; they are _my_ diamonds, and father promised mother that they should never go to the second wife if he did marry again." Mrs. Wardor's face flushed as red as Barbara's, but Christine's remained unmoved, calmly marking the notes on a sheet of music, while Clara gave one startled look, as though she had just made a discovery.