THE PROPOSAL.

Eight weeks passed.

Edith's impatience was uncontrollable. Thus far she had passed most of
the time in her own room; but now the confinement was more than she
could endure. She went out into the grounds, where she wandered day
after day, watching and listening, restlessly and feverishly, for the
approach of her friend. At length one day, as she was walking down the
avenue, a well-known figure came up advancing toward her, at sight of
which a thrill of joy passed through her. It was he. At last Little
Dudleigh!

In her great joy she did not seek to conceal her feelings, or to
maintain that reserve which thus far she had manifested in her
interviews with him. All this was thrown aside. Here stood at last her
one true friend, the one whose loss she had lamented, whose return she
had looked for so eagerly; the one friend coming to her through the
enemies who intervened. With a rapid step she advanced toward him. She
held out her hands, and pressed his warmly. Her lips quivered, tears
started to her eyes, but she did not speak.

"I am back again, Miss Dalton," said Little Dudleigh, joyously. "But how
changed you are! You have suffered. I see it in your face. What is the
matter? Has any thing new happened? Has that villain dared to offer
insult? Ah, why was I not here before? But I could not come. I came as
soon as I could."