CHAPTER XIX. THE DEPARTURE. THERE was a famous picture in the Academy last year representing a girl and her lover, standing with clasped hands-his face set, immovable, knowing that he has staked his all upon his question, and that a word may darken his life. She-her face upraised, her eyes full of solemn purpose, her lips framing themselves to utter the word "yes," her whole demeanour breathing loyal truth. I think it must have been just such an expression that shone upon the face which May turned to Major Trevor. There was no thought of fear, of self-consciousness, or of unworthy triumph in her pure heart. The best man she had ever known had chosen her out of all the world to bless his life, and grace his hometo be his companion, his counsellor, and his dearest friend. It was a moment that could never have a successor in her life. Marriage would bring new joys as well as cares, but the first exquisite moment of recognition created a sense of happiness which could never be surpassed. May went straight to her mother's room when she reached home. Mrs. Pemberton was reading in bed. She laid down her book on her daughter's entrance. "Have you had a pleasant day, dear?" she asked. "Yes ; and—mamma, Major Trevor is coming to speak to you to-morrow." One glance at May's face was enough. Mrs. Pemberton felt greatly relieved. "He doesn't want to carry you off at once, I hope," she said, after a few questions had been asked and answered. "I don't think I can spare you, May." And this admission was sweet to the daughter's heart. "You have got Marion, you know, mamma; |