“He would never have done that,” replied Gay, with decision, “until I had married somebody else, and there was no chance of that. You are grave, Merle; do you mean to forbid the banns? Why do you not congratulate me?” “I do congratulate you with all my heart; will that content you?” “To be sure; but what then, Merle?” “I ought not to say, perhaps, if you have made up your mind. I like Mr. Rossiter. He is young, but he seems very good. But do you remember what I said to you that evening, Miss Gay, when we were watching the moon rise over Squire Hawtry’s cornfields, that your environment just suited you; I can’t realise Marshlands without you.” I saw the sisters exchange a meaning look, and then Gay said, in a low voice, “What should you say, Merle, if I am not to leave Marshlands—if my father refuses to part with me?” “I do not think that would answer. Mrs. Markham would be mistress, and you have told me so often that she does not like Mr. Rossiter.” “There are to be changes at Marshlands, Merle,” broke in my mistress; she had been listening to us with much interest, and I wished Mr. Morton could have seen her with that bright animated look on her face. “Adelaide will be mistress there no longer. A young cousin of ours, Mrs. Austin, who was with Adelaide in Calcutta, has just lost her husband. She is an invalid, is very rich, and very helpless, and has no one except ourselves belonging to her. She is very fond of Adelaide, and she has begged her to live with her, and superintend her establishment. She has a large house at Chislehurst, and so Adelaide and Rolf and Judson are to take up their abode with her.” “Things have not been very pleasant lately, Merle,” observed Gay, gravely. “Adelaide has set her face against my marrying Walter, and she has worried father and tormented me, and made things rather difficult for all of us. It is quite true, as she says, that Walter is poor, and has no present prospects,” continued Gay, “and she has dinned his poverty so incessantly into father’s ear that he has got frightened about it, and has made up his mind that he will not part with me at all—that Walter must make his home with us. There was a terrible scene when Adelaide heard this; she declared she would not stop in the house under these conditions. And then Amy’s letter came, and she announced her resolution of living at Chislehurst. I do not like the idea of driving Addie away, but,” finished Gay, with an odd little laugh, “I think father and I will manage very well without her.” We talked a little more on the subject until I was dismissed, and I had plenty of food for my thoughts when I went back to the quiet nursery. (_To be continued._) [Illustration: EASTER TIDE A PRAYER. _Lord, by the stripes which wounded Thee, From death’s dread sting Thy servants free, That we may live and sing to Thee Alleluia!_] EASTER EGGS.