Ah! that was what she meant perhaps when last night she had told him "she would not be a worry to him _long_." Yes, she had meant that; that she was going to marry Hardinge! But to _know_ what Hardinge means! A torturing vision of a little lovely figure, gowned all in white--of a little lovely face uplifted--of another face down bent! No! a thousand times, no! Hardinge would not speak of that--it would be too sacred; and yet this awful doubt---- "Look here.

I'll tell you," says Hardinge's voice at this moment.

"After all, you are her guardian--her father almost--though I know you scarcely relish your position; and you ought to know about it, and perhaps you can give me your opinion, too, as to whether there was anything in it, you know.

The fact is, I,"-- rather shamefacedly--"asked her for a flower out of her bouquet, and she gave it.

That was all, and," hurriedly, "I don't really believe she meant anything _by_ giving it, only," with a nervous laugh, "I keep hoping she _did_!" A long, long sigh comes through the professor's lips straight from his heart.