It was a strikingly brilliant face, but it had a delicacy of feature, a fineness of line not common in dark women. When it was in repose it was beautiful, yet somehow it hinted sorrow, melancholy, unhappy love, tragedy; but it was seldom in repose, and when it was lit up with animation, with feeling or laughter, as it usually was, it was as radiantly lovely as mortal man could wish to see. There was a great heart in her too, but it had not yet been tried and proved. Hitherto she had moved in a sheltered world; of evil, and the unending struggle and strife of men and women outside, she had only a faint conception; the din of life had never clashed upon her ears. Her father, on the death of her mother, had brought her over from Canada to Mrs. Eversleigh, begging the wife of his old friend to take care of her for him. And Mrs. Eversleigh, a gracious woman, had gladly assented to his request. Kitty thus became a member of the family, and was educated along with Helen both in England and on the continent. The girls were like sisters. Kitty was deeply attached to Mrs. Eversleigh, and, in a less degree, to Francis Eversleigh. She was very happy with the Eversleighs. "Have they told you the good news, Gilbert?" asked Kitty, a note of rejoicing in her voice. "Not yet," interposed Helen Eversleigh; "there hasn't been time." "Tell me," said Gilbert, with a smile. "What is it?" "I got a letter from my father this morning, and he says that he is returning to England very soon," said Kitty, gleefully. "That is indeed good news for you," Gilbert agreed. "I thought you looked very much pleased about something," he added. "Pleased! I should say I am!" "And when is he coming?" asked Gilbert. "He says he will be here very soon," answered Kitty--"in a few days after his letter. He does not say quite when, but he writes, 'I will pop in and surprise you some day in the week next after that in which you receive this.' The very uncertainty as to the date," remarked the girl, brightly, "gives a keener edge to one's pleasure." "I dare say that is what he intended," said Mrs. Eversleigh. The three ladies looked delighted--as indeed they were. Gilbert seemed delighted also, but inwardly the news made him feel downcast. Passionately as he loved Kitty Thornton, the thought of the large fortune she would inherit, which Morris Thornton's approaching visit brought home to him afresh, had been a check upon him; so, too, was the fact that she was the ward, in a measure, of his father. These considerations had imposed upon him silence and a certain self-control; still he had an idea that Kitty could not be altogether unconscious of his love for her. He knew she liked him, and it was his fond hope that he might "drive this liking to the name of love." But so far he had not ventured to voice his hope in words. And now he wondered if her father's return would make a difference, and what her father would think of him and his suit.