Mrs Glaire, still somewhat upset by the excitement of the day, was lying on a couch, with her face screened from the lamp, whose soft light fell upon Eve as she sat trying to read, but with her thoughts wandering far away. In fact, from time to time she glanced towards the window, and at every sound a bright look of pleasure took that of the anxiety depicted upon her sweet young face. Then the animation would die out, and she sat apparently listening. A sigh from the couch aroused her; and, crossing the room, she bent down to tenderly stroke the grey curls back from Mrs Glaire's forehead before kissing her. "Poor aunty," she cooed; "she does want her tea so badly. Let me give you one--just one little cup." "No, Eve," said Mrs Glaire; "I'll wait till Richard comes." "Where can he be?" said Eve, anxiously. "How late he is." Then seeing how her words had impressed her aunt, she hastened to add: "Don't fidget, aunt dear; he's only stopping to have a cigar. He'll soon be here." "Eve, my child," said Mrs Glaire, who had been brooding over a trouble other than that which had disturbed her during the day, "bring a stool and sit down by me." Eve hastened to obey, and, drawing the young girl's head down to her breast, Mrs Glaire went on: "My child, you must not think me strange; but I want to talk to you-- about Richard." "Yes, aunt," said Eve, whose voice suddenly turned husky, as her heart began to accelerate its motion. "You love Dick, Eve?" "Oh, aunt dear, yes," faltered the girl, with tears rising to her eyes. "Of course you do, child. No girl could help loving my son." "Oh no, aunt." "I always meant him to marry you here, my dear; for it would be best for both of you. You have always looked upon him as to be your husband." "Yes, aunt dear, always." "Yes, and it will be best for you both," said Mrs Glaire, repeating herself, as if she found some difficulty in what she had to say. There was silence then for a few minutes, during which the tea-urn went on humming softly, and both women listened for the truant's footsteps, but he did not come. "Richard is quite a man now," said Mrs Glaire, after clearing her throat. "Yes, aunt dear, quite." "Does he--does he ever talk much to you about--about love?" "Oh no, aunt dear," said Eve, in a surprised tone. "But he is always very, very kind to me, and of course he does love me very much. He would never think of talking about it, aunt dear; he shows it." "Yes, yes, of course," said Mrs Glaire. "But--but--does he ever talk to you about--being married?" "Married, aunt? Oh no!" "He ought to," said Mrs Glaire, with a sigh. "Eve, my child, I think it would be better for you both if you were married." "Do you, aunt; why?" said Eve, naively. "It would be better for me too," said Mrs Glaire, evading the question. "Would it, aunt?" said Eve, looking at her for a moment, and then hanging her head as if in deep thought.