"Oh this can never be," Henry Rayne interrupted, hurriedly, "I have
intended from the first, that you should not be left. Come, come, we
will manage everything smoothly by and by. Do not leave one another now,
unnecessarily, when you have been together all your lives." There was a
shout of delight from both, and clasped in each other's arms, never to
part again, they thanked God sincerely for His goodness to them, so far.

"The dear child, sir, I'd have died without her." Nanette sobbed through
the tears of joy.

"Of course you would," Henry Rayne answered, handing them into the
carriage that awaited them. He cast an admiring glance on "the child" in
question, as he sat himself opposite to her on the leather buttoned seat
of the hack. If "child" she must be, she would undoubtedly prove an
interesting one, for she was now, to all appearances, in her seventeenth
year, and showed promises of future development into a splendid woman.
For the first few moments Nanette never ceased her protestations of
gratitude, and when at last she finished them in a great sob behind her
handkerchief, Honor looked sweetly up in Mr. Rayne's face and said.

"Your first act, dear guardian, was one of unsolicited kindness. What
will after years bring, when we have learned to respect and love you,
and do you good turns as well? The future seems so bright, now that
Nanette is coming, for," she explained "you must know, Mr. Rayne, she is
the only mother I have ever known, and when dear papa lived he treated
Nanette just as he would a member of his own family."

"And I will never be the one to make the first difference," answered Mr.
Rayne. "My house is large; I am a crusty old bachelor, with no other tie