"What an idea! No. My father puzzles me too, I assure you, but I must believe he loves her, and in the face of that, Gorham," Van Tassel looked up with strong feeling in face and voice, "that dear old fellow made sure that he wouldn’t be interfering with me before he spoke to her. He came to me just before leaving Cambridge, and asked me if I cared for her. Of course I didn’t suspect anything. It seemed only a consistent carrying out of the desire he has always had to anticipate my every wish. He urged nothing, but persisted gently till he discovered what he was after; and I tell you it touches me—in the light of present circumstances it touches me to think about it. He would have given up his wishes; no one would ever have been allowed to suspect them, had they conflicted with mine." The speaker rose, crossed the room, and stood with his back to his cousin, while he regarded the antlered cows in a framed sampler executed by Miss Lovina’s mother. "No wonder you are glad that you said nothing offensive at parting," remarked Page. "Yes," replied Jack, turning back. "I have been in twenty different minds since taking the train for Boston, as to whether I do right or wrong to go to Europe now. Very few words passed between father and me about it. I had some hours to think before meeting him, after learning what he had done, and I merely told him that Clover had told me of their engagement. He looked right at me and he understands me pretty well. ’Does it displease you, Jack?’ he asked. ’It surprises me, sir,’ I answered, ’and it makes me feel that while matters are in the transition state which is coming, I might perhaps as well put in that year abroad you spoke of.’ He was silent for a minute, and I knew that, try as I might, I couldn’t mislead him much as to my feelings, so I braced up and spoke as naturally as I could, about how deeply I desired his happiness, and said that if my staying at home would conduce to it, I would stay. He thought a minute more, and then he said as quietly as he always says everything, ’You had better go, Jack.’" The speaker paid one more visit to the sampler with its angular green trees. After a minute Page broke the silence: "I believe you have decided wisely. I believe you had better come with me." *CHAPTER VII.* *ON THE RAIL.* The following week the two sailed for Germany; but when home-coming time for Page arrived, his cousin did not accompany him. Mr. Van Tassel had married the month after his son left, and although his affectionate letters held out an invariable welcome, they made it easy for Jack to stay amid the novel scenes which allured him. Gorham Page, therefore, was alone when he reëntered Boston, one day in the following August. The sister-in-law with whom he made his home was, he knew, at the seashore, and after a brief visit to her deserted flat, and a hasty repacking, he took a cab for the Boston and Maine depot.