knew from the way she worded the note that nothing
had occurred since he had seen her--within the week,
in fact--to cause her either annoyance or suffering.
No; it was only to continue one of their confidential
talks, which were the joy of his life.

Jane was waiting for him in the morning-room.
Her face lighted up as he entered and took her
hand, and immediately relaxed again into an expression
of anxiety.

All his eagerness vanished. He saw with a sinking
of the heart, even before she had time to speak,
that something outside of his own affairs, or hers,
had caused her to write the note.

"I came at once," he said, keeping her hand in
his. "You look troubled; what has happened?"

"Nothing yet," she answered, leading him to the
sofa, "It is about Lucy. She wants to go away for
the winter."

"Where to?" he asked. He had placed a cushion
at her back and had settled himself beside her.

"To Trenton, to visit her friend Miss Collins
and study music. She says Warehold bores her."

"And you don't want her to go?"