"Mr. Hamilton, mother," said Lenora, as half an hour afterward she
ushered that gentleman into the room. But so wholly absorbed was the
black bombazine and linen collar in the contents of an open letter,
which she held in her hand, that the words were twice repeated--"Mr.
Hamilton, mother"--ere she raised her eyes! Then coming forward with
well-feigned confusion, she apologized for not having observed him
before, saying she was sure he would excuse her if he knew the
contents of her letter. Of course he wanted to know, and of course she
didn't want to tell. He was too polite to urge her, and the
conversation soon took another channel.

After a time Lenora left the room, and Mrs. Carter, again speaking of
the letter, begged to make a confidant of Mr. Hamilton, and ask his
advice. He heard the letter read through, and after a moment's silence
asked, "Do you like him, Mrs. Carter?"

"Why--no--I don't think I do," said she, "but then the widow's lot is
so lonely."

"I know it is," sighed he, while through the keyhole of the opposite
door came something which sounded very much like a stifled laugh! It
was the hour of Ernest Hamilton's temptation, and but for the
remembrance of the sad, white face which had gazed so sorrowfully at
him from the window he had fallen. But Maggie's presence seemed with
him--her voice whispered in his ear, "Don't do it, father, don't"--and
he calmly answered that it would be a good match. But he could not, no
he could not advise her to marry him; so he qualified what he had said
by asking her not to be in a hurry--to wait awhile. The laugh through
the keyhole was changed to a hiss, which Mrs. Carter said must be the
wind, although there was not enough stirring to move the rose bushes