single motion of the hand sent him rolling noiselessly to the curtained
door, but as he did so, a voice exclaimed behind him, "Wait for me,
cousin." And as he turned, a young girl approached, smiling a glad
welcome as she took his hand, adding in a tone of soft reproach, "Home
again, and not let me know it, till I heard the good news by accident."

"Was it good news, Octavia?" and Maurice looked up at the frank face
with a new expression in those penetrating eyes of his. His cousin's
open glance never changed as she stroked the hair off his forehead with
the caress one often gives a child, and answered eagerly, "The best to
me; the house is dull when you are away, for Jasper always becomes
absorbed in horses and hounds, and leaves Mamma and me to mope by
ourselves. But tell me, Maurice, what they said to you, since you would
not write."

"A little hope, with time and patience. Help me to wait, dear, help
me to wait."

His tone was infinitely sad, and as he spoke, he leaned his cheek
against the kind hand he held, as if to find support and comfort there.
The girl's face brightened beautifully, though her eyes filled, for to
her alone did he betray his pain, and in her alone did he seek
consolation.

"I will, I will with heart and hand! Thank heaven for the hope, and
trust me it shall be fulfilled. You look very tired, Maurice. Why go in
to dinner with all those people? Let me make you cozy here," she added
anxiously.

"Thanks, I'd rather go in, it does me good; and if I stay away, Jasper