The doctor set his wife down at their own gate, then drove on to make the call she had spoken of. Serena stood still for a moment, sending glances up and down the street, debating in her own mind whether she should or should not run over to Charlton’s office, less than a square away, and say a few words that were burning on the tip of her tongue.

The question was decided for her by seeing him approaching.

“Good-evening, sir,” she said, nodding and smiling; “won’t you come in?”

He returned her greeting and accepted her invitation, asking, “Have you some news for me? I seem to read tidings in your face.”

“Yes; I have found out to a certainty that you were wrong and I was right in that little talk we had the other day.”

“Pardon me, but I am not quite sure that I understand to what you refer, my good lady,” he said, lightly, following her into the porch, where she gave him a chair, taking another near at hand herself.

“I am just from Lakeside,” she said, giving him a mischievous look and smile. “I’ve had a private interview with my friend Miriam, and learned from her own lips that she utterly detested Bangs on account of his odious character, and that her emotion on hearing of his awful end was because he had gone directly from an interview with her, in which her firm refusal to accept the offer of his hand had put him in a towering passion, and that had led to his murder of Barney Nolan, for which, as you know, he was lynched. So poor, dear Miriam felt at the time of hearing what had happened that she was partly responsible for their deaths, and she can’t even yet quite put aside the feeling.”

Charlton’s countenance had grown radiant.

“A thousand thanks, my dear Mrs. Jasper!” he exclaimed; “you have lifted a load from my mind, for, as I see you have already guessed, I am deeply in love with Miss Miriam. Yet, after all,” he sighed, a look of doubt and uncertainty taking the place of the other, “I may fail to win the prize I so covet, for I am quite sensible that it is far beyond my deserts.”

“I entirely agree with you, sir,” she said, teasingly. “I know of no one (now in the market) whom I consider worthy of Miriam Heath. She is, in my estimation, a diamond of the first water.”

“She is, indeed! And you would discourage me from seeking to win her?”

“No; there’s nothing like trying. As far as I know she does not dislike you, and who can tell but you might in time, by clever courting, teach her to really care for you? I will say for your consolation that I think you as worthy of her as any other unmarried man of my acquaintance.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You found them all well at Lakeside?”

“Yes, and rejoicing over a piece of good fortune—the recovery of the stolen notes; though where they came from is a profound secret.”

She enjoyed his surprise and pleasure, and in answer to a question or two, went on to give him the whole story, adding that he was to be sent for to attend to the business arrangements for them.

“I’ll go over at once and save them the trouble of sending,” he said, rising. “Good-evening.”

“Good-evening,” she responded. “Come back and report, won’t you?”

He only gave her a bow and smile, then hastened on his way.

The Lakeside family were just about to sit down to tea when he arrived, and, of course, he was invited to partake with them.

They had their business talk at the table.

On the conclusion of the meal all repaired to the porch except Miriam, who, leaving the entertainment of the guest to her grandmother and Ronald, stole quietly out into the garden, and busied herself among her flowers.

She was training a vine over a trellis, when a familiar step on the walk startled her slightly and deepened the color on her cheek; then a voice close at her side said, “Let me help you. My superior height will give me an advantage in training those taller tendrils.”

“Thank you,” she answered, accepting his offer, but without looking round, and feeling her cheeks grow hot, for she knew instinctively what was coming.

He praised the beauty of the vine; then presently they turned from it to the flower-beds, and for a little made conversation about them.

Neither felt a very deep interest in the subject-matter of discourse at that moment; there was shortly a pause in the stream of talk, and summoning up all his courage, Warren began upon the theme that lay nearest his heart.

He told Miriam frankly that he loved her and wanted to make her his wife; that she had attracted him strongly from the first hour of their acquaintance, and more and more as he learned to know her better and perceived the beauty of her character, till months ago she had become so dear to his heart that he felt he should be able to find little joy in life without her sweet companionship; that he had refrained from speaking till now only because of his straitened circumstances, but lately he had learned that an investment had turned out remarkably well, and as he had now a constantly increasing and lucrative practice, he felt justified in making her an offer of his heart and hand, having a reasonable prospect of being able to support her in comfort.

He paused, but receiving no reply, went on again.

“I feel, dear Miss Miriam, that your worth is far beyond my deserts, but I am sure no one could love you better or be more earnestly and sincerely determined to do all in his power to make your life bright and happy.”

Still no reply.

“I fear I have not won your heart,” he sighed, “but, dear girl, can you not give me a little hope that I may be able to do so in time?”

“I thank you sincerely for your generous offer, Captain Charlton,” she responded at last, speaking in low, tremulous tones, and with half-averted face, “but—but—I think I cannot be spared from home; I think grandmother, the children, Ronald, all need me. Grandmother is too old to bear alone the burden of household cares and responsibilities, and Ronald is not yet strong enough to take charge of the farm.”

“I see it all,” he said; “your noble, self-sacrificing spirit increases my esteem and affection, and I would not ask you to forsake a duty for my sake; but can you not give me some hope for the future?”

“I do not approve of long engagements,” she said, evasively.

“We need not settle the question of its length at present,” he said, in ardent tones, taking her hand and raising it to his lips; “only let me know that you care for me even a very little, and I shall not despair of winning you at last.”

She did not refuse or withdraw the hand he had taken, nor did she repulse him when he ventured upon more pronounced demonstrations of love.

He drew her hand within his arm and led her to an arbor at the foot of the garden.

There time passed very swiftly, and the moon was already shining in the sky when they returned to the house with faces radiant with happiness, and the captain announced to Mrs. Heath and Ronald, whom they found alone together on the porch, that he and Miriam were plighted to each other for life.

“But I am not going to leave you yet, dear grandmother,” Miriam said, in low, tremulous tones, as the old lady folded her to her heart and wept over her in mingled joy and grief.

“Oh, my darling, I don’t know what we could ever do without you!” she sobbed, holding the dear girl in a close embrace; “and yet I could not for a moment think of standing in the way of your happiness, dear, unselfish child that you are, and have always been!”

“Surely there’s no need of either alternative,” said Ronald, jocosely; “we’ve only to take Warren in and make him a permanent addition to the family—a valuable one he will be, too. So, young folks, I give you my blessing, and gracefully accept the situation.”

“Certainly it would be a delightful arrangement for us, Ronald,” the old lady said. “We are willing to share our dear Miriam with you, Captain Charlton, if you will not rob us of her altogether.”

“There will be plenty of time to talk it over, grandma, before anything need be settled,” Miriam said, with a blush and a shy glance up into her lover’s face.

“Yes,” he said, with a proud, fond look at her; “I appreciate your kindness, dear madam, and could not find it in my heart to make so mean a return as to rob you of your rightful share in one who owes much of her lovely womanhood to your tender care and training.”