Wingate smiled as he read the flamboyant note from Caleb Boyle, accepting his invitation to dinner. It concluded with a characteristic flourish. "Trusting that our meeting may prove as agreeable to you, as it is in anticipation to myself. Yours sincerely, C. Boyle." It was a beautiful summer morning. His thoughts flew to his well-beloved. What was she doing at this particular moment? He could guess too well. Sitting, with that far-away look in her dear eyes, brooding and lonely amid the ruins of her once happy home. He did not usually call so early, but to-day must be an exception. A brilliant idea had occurred to the fond young lover; he hastened to put it into execution. She sprang up when he entered, and the light in her beautiful eyes, the faint flush on her cheek, told him that he was welcome. The soft lips returned his fervent kiss. "We are going to take a holiday, darling," he cried gaily. "This is a perfect day; it's a shame to be stifled in London. We will run down by train to Shepperton. I'll get a boat and pull you to Hampton Court. We'll lunch there, and afterwards stroll round the gardens. Then I will bring you back home, I wonder if you remember that day--it seems such a little while ago--when we first met?" "Shall I ever forget it?" she whispered softly. "I think, perhaps, I fell a little bit in love with you then. And afterwards we met at Hendon, and you came to call on us at Chesterfield Street. And my dear father took a great fancy to you. And now--" she looked at him shyly, and did not finish the sentence. He took her in his arms and kissed her. "And now, my darling, we are sweethearts for ever and ever." A couple of hours later they were on the river. The beauty of the warm summer day, the pleasurable excitement of the journey, the change of scene, had momentarily lifted the shadows and induced forgetfulness. For that brief space she was her old joyous self, a girl in the glorious fulness of her youth, living and beloved. Her thoughts were such as come to pure girls in such moments. As they glided down the placid stream, the golden afternoon warm and odorous with the mingled scents of the summer air, so would they journey through life together. She remembered how her father had adored her mother. Austin would be such another true lover to the end of his days. They returned to Chesterfield Street. She was loth to part with him and pressed him to stay to dinner. He pleaded a business engagement. He could not break faith with Boyle, although he was sorely tempted to do so. "You will be sure to come to-morrow?" she said, as she kissed him good-night. It cut him to the quick to leave her alone in that sad house, but he had no choice. At all costs, he must keep Boyle away from her. "Quite sure, my darling. You love me a little?" he whispered as they parted.