Ah, the tell tale crimson that will betray Marguerite in spite of all her grand theories of will power!
"It is Phillip!" and the rapid beat of that uncontrollable organ sends the crimson flood surging over the marble brow with redoubled force.
"Pardon my coming to-night, Miss Verne. It is on a sacred mission—a solemn obligation to the dead."
Phillip Lawson's voice was husky, and his muscular frame vibrated with the depth of emotion.
Marguerite grew pale, but the young man's reassuring words brought relief.
"It is nothing to grieve for. It is somewhat unpleasant for us all, but we must not consider our feelings."
A familiar face greets the young man with a pleasing smile.
Mrs. Arnold is indeed a changed woman. She is now a true friend an honorable and honest friend.
The once peerless beauty is no longer a silly, heartless nobody, but a being with feelings, and aspirations of a higher kind; and as she stands before us much altered in appearance, with much of the former beauty gone, we can indeed rejoice that in its place is a happy, soft subdued expression that makes even the plainest face comely and fair to look upon.
"I am glad that you have come Mr. Lawson, I have been thinking of you the whole evening. I have so much to ask you about papa. It seems that I never can get him out of my mind. I can see him now looking so interested, just as he did when you happened to come to 'Sunnybank.' Oh! Mr. Lawson, will I ever cease to feel the deep remorse that is almost killing me."