Frank Amberley, fully conscious of the risk to his peace involved by lingering, could not tear himself away. But by degrees he discovered the charm, the beauty, the sweetness of the innocent Blanche’s character, so was in a fair way of being consoled. Happily for himself, he was not one of those who love but once and forever. Paul Desfrayne did not tell his painful story all at once, and Lois spared him much of the distress involved in the recital, but by degrees she became aware of all the sad details; and she gave him all the pity and sympathy of her fresh young heart. The Honorable Gerald found some one more appreciative and more warmly disposed in his favor than the pretty Blanche, and transferred all the devotion he had to offer to the more accessible divinity. Paul was left pretty much to his own devices in winning the prize held out to him so strangely. It was not a difficult task. Never did wooing prosper more hopefully. The last few days of this brief, delicious holiday were fast winging to the dim past. Nay, the last evening had come--a soft, cloudless, moonlit night, when the very air seemed to breathe of love. Gerald was away; Blanche and Lady Quaintree were taking a farewell turn on the sands; Lord Quaintree was asleep. Lois had stayed at home, for she had a tolerably clear idea that Paul would come, and he had looked a hope that he might find her alone. The young girl was sitting in the long, flower-wreathed balcony, the mild, silvery moonbeams falling over her like a radiance, making her look some lovely ethereal spirit. Paul did come, as she anticipated. The dim, mysterious light did not betray the glowing blush upon her beautiful face, the sparkling, happy light in her eyes. She did not hear his step upon the carpet, nor see him, but some electrical sympathy told her he was approaching. With a soft, welcoming, trustful smile, she held out her hand, which he took, but omitted to release. Then he sat down close to her, yet slightly behind her chair, as if even now he scarcely dared to believe that the promise of the future could be true. A murmuring conversation, too low for ears less acute than those attuned by love to hear, and then Paul gently folded Lois in his arms. Then, after a pause, he slipped a diamond ring of betrothal upon her finger, and she was his promised wife. Vere Gardiner’s dying wishes had come to a happy fruition, after all. And the story ended like the delightful old fairy-tales, with a joyous clash of merry wedding-bells. But this time there was no rash marrying in haste. Almost a year elapsed, by the influence and desire of Lady Quaintree, before the pretty bridal-party met in Flore Hall, about six weeks before the marriage of Frank Amberley and Blanche Dormer. The echoes of the harmonious wedding-bells sound as yet through the wedded life of Paul and his true love. Adieu, care; farewell, sorrow, for the inevitable cares and sorrows are shared, so fall lightly.