"A change will do her good—will do all of us good, perhaps," said the old man. "Everyone knows that it is not wise for people to see too much of each other; it puts too heavy a strain on friendship. Companionship should be a volunteered thing—should be a reward, indeed, for previous isolation and work——" Vincent’s forehead flushed; and the natural man within him was crying out ’Oh, very well, then; I don’t press any further acquaintance on you!’ But for Maisrie’s sake he curbed his pride. He said, as quickly as might be— "In our case I thought that was precisely how our companionship stood—a little relaxation after the labours of the day. However, if you think there has been too much of that——" "I was speaking of general principles," Mr. Bethune said, with equanimity. "At the same time I confess that, as regards Maisrie, I think that some alteration in our mode of existence might be beneficial. Her life of late has been much too monotonous." "Again and again she has told me that she delights in the quietude of it!" the young man protested—for it suddenly occurred to him that Maisrie was to be dragged away from England altogether. "Surely she has had enough of travel?" "Travel? That is not what I have in mind," old George Bethune said. "We have neither the time nor the means. I should merely propose to pack up a few books and things, and take Maisrie down to some sea-side place—Brighton, perhaps, as being the most convenient." The young man’s face flashed instant relief; Brighton—that was something different from what he had been dreading. Brighton—Brighton was not Toronto nor Montreal; there was going to be no wide Atlantic between him and her; a trivial matter of an hour’s railway journey or something of the kind! "Oh, Brighton?" said he, quite gladly. "Yes, that will be very pleasant for her. Brighton is brisk and lively enough at this time of the year; and if there is any sunlight going, you are sure to get it there. I am afraid you will find the hotels full——" "We shall not trouble the hotels," Mr. Bethune said, with grave dignity. "Some very humble lodgings will suffice. And perhaps we might get rooms in a house on the hill at the back of the town; that would give me seclusion and quiet for my work. Yes, I think the change will be wholesome; and the sooner we set about it the better." Well, to Vincent it did not seem that this proposal involved any great alteration in their mode of life, except that he himself was obviously and unmistakeably excluded; nevertheless, he was so glad to find that the separation from Maisrie was of a mild and temporary nature that he affected to give a quite cordial approval. He even offered to engage the services of his aunt, Mrs. Ellison, in securing them apartments; but Mr. Bethune answered that Maisrie and he were old travellers, and would be able to shift for themselves. And when did they propose to go? Well, to-morrow, if his granddaughter were content.