Nansie immediately ran down the little flight of wooden steps, and looked from one to the other of the men, both so dear to her. "Nansie," said Kingsley, "I said that I would tell your father all. Forgive me; I have not done so." "Why, Kingsley?" "Because I left it to you." "I may speak, then?" "Yes." And now there were tears in Nansie's eyes, happy tears. She approached closer to her father and took his hand. "You said last night, father, that you thought I had a secret which I was keeping from you." "Yes, child." "I had; but I had given Kingsley a promise not to reveal it without his permission. I have his permission now, and I will tell it." Her bosom heaved, her lips trembled; she gazed fondly at her father. "Well, child?" "You will not be angry, father?" "I do not know, Nansie." "Father," said Nansie--her arms were round his neck, and her face half hidden on his breast--"Kingsley and I are married." "Married!" cried Mr. Loveday, in a tone of wondering happiness. "Yes, dear, married. Kingsley thought it best to wait until his father, who has been for some time abroad, returned home before we made it known; but I am glad that you know it earlier--glad and happy, my dear father. I wrote to Kingsley--I could not help it, father; I was afraid of losing him, we were wandering about so--and he came last night, when you were asleep. I was awake, listening to the nightingale. Kingsley being outside and I in, we could not talk comfortably together; that is how we met this morning at sunrise. You will forgive us, father, will you not?" "Forgive you, dear child!" said Mr. Loveday, holding out his hand to Kingsley, who took it and pressed it warmly. "What can I have to forgive, seeing you and Kingsley so happy, and knowing that you have a protector? It is I who should ask forgiveness of him." "Not at all, my dear sir, not at all," cried Kingsley, hastily. "I was to blame for allowing you to labor a moment under a misapprehension." "My dear Nansie! my dear, dear child!" murmured the happy father. Then, turning to Kingsley: "When do you expect your father home?" As he asked the question his face became grave. He saw the difficulties in their way. "He has arrived, sir. I had a letter from him yesterday, and I am going to him, to confess all. It was partly that, and partly because of Nansie's letter, but chiefly because I could not exist without seeing her before I went to my father, which brought me here. But, sir, my father is not the question." "What is, then, Kingsley?" asked Mr. Loveday, still very grave. "The question is, whether you are going to ask me to stay to breakfast with you." Mr. Loveday brightened; there was something contagious in the young man's gay spirits. "I invite you, Kingsley," he said. "Thank you, sir; I am famished, Nansie."