putting away childish things, and "woman's lot" was coming fast upon
her. Mrs. Douglas would have been astounded, indeed, could she, with her
eyes of experience and wisdom, have looked into the heart of Barbara,
whom she still called "child." That which the young girl could not
understand would have been a revelation to her who had been a loving
wife. With what an overwhelming pity would she have hastened to restore
her to her parents before this hopeless love should grow any stronger,
and she become aware of its existence!

Dr. Burnett's admiration for Robert Sumner was unbounded. He had known
him from boyhood, and had always been his confidant, so far as an older
man can be with a younger. Many times he had talked to his children
about him--about his earnestness and sincerity of purpose--his high
aims, and his willingness to spare no pains to realize them.

Barbara, who, perhaps, had been more than any other of the children her
father's comrade, had listened to these tales and praises until Robert
Sumner had become her ideal of all that was noble. No one had dreamed of
such a thing, but so it was; and through all the excitement of
preparation and through the journey to Italy, one of her chief
anticipations had been to see this young man of whom her father had
talked so much, and, herself, to learn to know him. The story of his
marriage disappointment, which had led to his life abroad, and a notable
adventure in Egypt, in which he had saved a woman's life, had added just
that romance to his reputation as an artist and a writer on art that had
seized hold of the young girl's imagination.

Now, as she was daily with him in the home, saw his affectionate care
for his sister, Malcom, and Margery, and felt his good comradeship with
them all, while in every way he was teaching them and inspiring them to