"It is Cousin Ralph's; I think it beautiful," said Kittie, unconsciously obliging, but giving no relief, for Mr. Murray's mind went back to the day he met "Cousin Ralph," handsome, manly fellow, and he remembered that it was only second cousin, and that Ralph had been very attentive to Kittie at the picnic, and that--oh, what didn't he think, all in a few minutes; and how true it is that "Trifles light as air, are to the jealous, Confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ." The rebound from a feeling of perfect security to one of miserable doubt, at finding the field already taken, nearly drove Mr. Murray into a precipitancy that he might have regretted forever. As it was, he answered Kittie's inquiries for Pansy, in a pre-occupied way, that was surprising, and seemed too much pleased with that envelope to ever lay it down; and yet, with all his looking, he failed to discover that the name, in a maze of flourishes, was Miss Kathleen Dering, instead of Miss Katherine. Just so do we make up our minds to see things in a certain light, and see them so, in spite of fate. How pleasant it was, sitting there in the warm firelight, with Kittie opposite, in the low rocking chair, and no one else near. It seemed so homelike and sweet to this man who had no fireside of his own, and only a memory of one short, happy year, when another girlish face and heart, not unlike Kittie's, had been all his own. He wished now, that no one else would come in to spoil this cozy chat; but they did, in just a moment--Mrs. Dering and Bea; and Kittie resigned the low rocker, for a corner over on the lounge, to his great regret. They all heard with polite and honest expressions of regret, that he was going to leave for the city on the next day; but after hearing that he was going to leave Pansy behind, Kittie was quite satisfied. "I have no home, you know," he said, looking at Mrs. Dering, with an expression that caused her kindly heart to pity him. "I shall board, and be hard at work 'till late every night, and poor little Pansy would have a dreary life with a hired nurse. Besides, the influences surrounding her would not be such as I would like. So Sister Julia has kindly promised to keep her until I can make some arrangements, and become a little settled." He staid for some time; promised to call in and see Olive, who had gone to her studies at last; and then he rose to leave. If he held Kittie's hand a little longer than any of the others, no one noticed it; and if, in that good-bye, his eyes went to her face less guarded in their expression than usual, no one noticed that either, because no one dreamed of such a thing. "May I have Pansy with me as often as I want her?" asked Kittie, just before he left.