'No; I left John at home. I told him that I wanted to have a little talk with you, and like a model husband he asked no questions, and raised no obstacles. All the same I expect he will follow me.'
'You wanted to talk to me?' returned Olive, in a questioning tone, but her sallow face flushed a little. 'How strange, when I was just wishing for you too.'
'There must be some electric sympathy between us,' replied her aunt, smiling. 'Nothing could have induced me to sleep until I had seen you. Mr. Marsden wished me to give you a message from him; he was a little incoherent, but so far as I understand, he wished me to assure you that he considers yours a right decision.'
Olive's face brightened a little. Mildred had already detected unusual sadness on it, but her calmness was baffling.
'Did he tell you to say that? How kind of him!'
'He did not stop to explain himself; he was in too great a hurry; but I thought he seemed troubled. What was the decision, Olive? Has this helped you to make it?' touching reverently the open page of a Bible that lay beside her.
The brown light in Olive's eyes grew steady and intense; she looked like one who had found rest in a certainty.
'I have just been preaching to myself from that text: "He that putteth his hand to the plough and looketh backward," you know, Aunt Milly. Well, that seems to point as truly to me as it does to Mr. Marsden.'
'Yes, dearest,' replied Mildred, softly; 'and now what has he said to you?'
'I hardly know myself,' was the low-toned answer. 'I have been thinking it all over, and I cannot now understand how it was; it seems so wonderful that any one could care enough for me,' speaking to herself, with a soft, bewildered smile.