One afternoon Mr. Merridew came home in a state of suppressed excitement which was none the less manifest to Nan's first glance. It was late in April, and he found her on the lawn behind the house. Cuckoos were calling in the narrow avenue, now faintly dusted with palest gold; lesser trees had reached the stage of emeralds, and a horse-chestnut on the lawn was parading a thousand pairs of light-green gloves. The radiant afternoon sky changed into that of a serene evening as father and daughter stood face to face.
"Who do you think arrived in London this morning? Ralph Devenish!" he said, speaking the name in haste as her colour went.
"Indeed!" she remarked, and bit her lip to hide the hope that she had cherished for one instant.
"Poor fellow," continued Mr. Merridew, with his facile sym
