'Can you guess what Angus Egerton said to me to-day?' she asked, in
a low tremulous voice.

'Was it something very wonderful, dear--or something as old as the
world we live in?'

'Not old to me, Mary--new and wonderful beyond all measure. I did not
think he cared for me--I had never dared to hope; for I have liked
him a little for a long time, dear, though I don't suppose you ever
thought so.'

'My dear girl, I have known it from the very beginning. There is
nothing in the world more transparent than your thoughts about Angus
Egerton have been to me.'

'O Mary, how could you! And I have been so careful to say nothing!'
she cried reproachfully. 'But he loves me, dear. He has loved me for
a long time, he says; and he has asked me to be his wife.'

'What, after all those protestations about never asking a woman to
share his poverty?'

'Yes, Mary; and he meant what he said. He told me that if I had been
a penniless girl, he should have proposed to me ever so long ago.
And he is to see papa to-morrow.'

'Do you think Mr. Darrell will ever consent to such a marriage,
Milly?' I asked gravely.

'Why should he not? He cannot go on thinking badly of Angus when