that her father was gone she could have no motive for refusing him.

'You will stay with me, won't you, Mary?' she said to me as we sat
by the fire in mournful silence that afternoon. 'You are my only
comfort now, dear. I suppose I shall remain here--for some time, at
any rate. Augusta spoke to me very graciously, and begged that I
would make this my home, according to my father's wish. We should
not interfere with each other in any way, she said, and it was
indeed more than probable she would go on the Continent with her
maid early in the spring, and leave me sole mistress of Thornleigh.
She doubted if she could ever endure the place now, she said. She is
not like me, Mary. I shall always have a melancholy love for the
house in which I have lived so happily with my father.'

So I remained with my dear girl, and life at Thornleigh Manor glided
by in a quiet melancholy fashion. If Mrs. Darrell grieved for her
dead husband, her sorrow was of a cold tearless kind; but she kept
her own rooms a good deal, and we did not see much of her. The
Collingwoods were full of sympathy for their 'darling Milly,' and
their affection had some cheering influence upon her mind. From them
she heard occasionally of Mr. Egerton, who was travelling in the
wildest regions of Northern Europe. She very rarely spoke of him
herself at this time; and once when I mentioned his name she checked
me reproachfully.

'Don't speak about him, Mary,' she said; 'I don't want to think of
him. It seems like a kind of treason against papa. It seems like
taking advantage of my dear father's death.'

'Would you refuse to marry him, Milly, if he were to come back to