Margaret Maliphant

								

she would say was: "Oh, Margaret, let them settle it. I don't want to
have any will of my own."
I was very much disappointed, and was fain to be agreeably surprised,
when on the following morning I heard that, after mature deliberation,
our parents had decided to allow the captain a year's probation.
I had been afraid that mother would entirely override all father's
arguments; she generally did.
The affair was not to be called an engagement--both were to be
perfectly free to choose again; but if at the end of that time both
were of the same mind, the betrothal should be formally made and
announced.
Mother must, however, have been very hard in her terms; for the young
folk were neither to meet nor to write to one another, nor to have any
news of one another beyond what might transpire in the correspondence
that father would be carrying on with Frank on outside matters.
Frank told me the conditions out in the garden, when I caught hold
of him as he came out of father's study. The whole matter was to be
a complete secret, shut closely within our own family. This mother
repeated to me afterwards, I guessed very well with what intent. But
although Frank must have guessed at a possible rival in his uncle, he
absolutely refused to be cast down.
The thought even crossed my mind that I should have liked my lover to
have been a little more cast down. But no doubt he felt too sure of
himself, even after the slight shock of surprise that it must have been
to him to find his suit not at once accepted.
Nevertheless, as he passed out of the room where he had taken leave of
Joyce alone, he bent forward towards me as I stood in the hall, and
said, gravely, "Miss Margaret, I trust her to you. Don't let her forget
me."
My heart ached for him, and from that moment it was afire with the
steadfast resolve to support my sister's failing spirits and preserve
for her the beautiful romance which had so unexpectedly opened out
before her.

CHAPTER XII.

Joyce and I sat in the apple orchard one May afternoon. It was not
often we sat idle; but Joyce was going away on the morrow on a visit to
Sydenham, and we wanted a few minutes' quiet together.
There was no quiet in-doors; mother was in one of her restless moods,
and Mr. Hoad was with father. I supposed he was still harping on that
subject of the elections, for I could not tell why else he should come
so often; but I could have told him that he might have spared his
pains, for that father never altered his mind.
However, on this particular occasion I was glad that he came,
for I thought that it might save father from missing Frank too
much--although, to be sure, they did not seem to get on so well as
before Frank's coming; and I fancied that there was even the suspicion
of a cloud on father's face when he closed the door after his man of
business.
Who could wonder? Who would like Hoad after Frank Forrester? For my
own part, I always avoided him, and that was why I had taken Joyce