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"Ellen!" said her mother, reprovingly.

"Oh, well, mamma, there's nobody here that doesn't know all about it," said the chatter-box. "But, dear me! Mr. Stanley, ain't you well?—you look like a ghost!"

Edith, who had been gazing steadfastly out of the window, now turned suddenly round; and Fred started at seeing the deadly paleness of her face.

"Ring the bell, Edith, for a glass of water," said Nell. "Why, I declare you're as bad yourself," she added, suddenly confronting her. "Just look, mamma, how pale they both are! I'm afraid it's catching. Do I look pale?" And the serious expression of Nell, as she glanced at her own blooming face in the glass, was truly laughable.

But the color that had faded from the face of both speedily returned. The eyes of Fred and Edith met; and before that penetrating glance hers fell, while a vivid crimson mantled cheek and brow.

During the remainder of the evening, the name of Ralph De Lisle was frequently mentioned by all save Edith, who seemed to shrink painfully from the subject. From what he heard, Fred judged De Lisle was a suitor for the hand of Edith—and what was more, a favored one.