"Yes, sir, unless something very unusual occurs." They parted, and during the remainder of the walk Edna could think of nothing but the revelation written in Gordon Leigh's eyes; the immemorial, yet ever new and startling truth, that opened a new vista in life, that told her she was no longer an isolated child, but a woman, regnant over the generous heart of one of the pets of society. She saw that he intended her to believe he loved her, and suspicious as gossips had made her with reference to his conduct, she could not suppose he was guilty of heartless and contemptible trifling. She trusted his honor; yet the discovery of his affection brought a sensation of regret--of vague self-reproach, and she felt that in future he would prove a source of endless disquiet. Hitherto she had enjoyed his society, henceforth she felt that she must shun it. She endeavored to banish the recollection of that strange expression in his generally laughing eyes, and bent over the Targum, hoping to cheat her thoughts into other channels; but the face would not "down at her bidding," and as the day drew near its close she grew nervous and restless. The chandelier had been lighted, and Mrs. Murray was standing at the window of the sitting-room, watching for the return of a servant whom she had sent to the post-office, when Edna said: "I believe Mr. Leigh is coming here to tea; he told me so this morning." "Where did you see him?" "He walked with me as far as Mrs. Carter's gate, and asked me to look out a reference which he thought I might find in one of Mr. Murray's books." Mrs. Murray smiled, and said: "Do you intend to receive him in that calico dress?" "Why not? I am sure it is very neat; it is perfectly new, and fits me well." "And is very suitable to wear to the Parsonage, but not quite appropriate when Gordon Leigh takes tea here. You will oblige me by changing your dress and rearranging your hair, which is twisted too loosely." When she re-entered the room, a half-hour later, Mrs. Murray leaned against the mantelpiece, with an open letter in her hand and dreary disappointment printed on her face. "I hope you have no unpleasant tidings from Mr. Murray. May I ask why you seem so much depressed?" The mother's features twitched painfully as she restored the letter to its envelope, and answered: "My son's letter is dated Philoe, just two months ago, and he says he intended starting next day to the interior of Persia. He says, too, that he did not expect to remain away so long, but finds that he will probably be in Central Asia for another year. The only comforting thing in the letter is the assurance that he weighs more, and is in better health, than when he left home." The ringing of the door-bell announced Mr. Leigh's arrival, and as she led the way to the parlor, Mrs. Murray hastily fastened a drooping spray of coral berries in Edna's hair.