"Look. I begged him to put my name, though he said it was a pity to do it with his left hand; I didn't like to wait, so I asked him at least to write N. W. May, and the date."

"And he has added Prov. xxiii. 24, 25. Let me look it out." She did so, and instead of reading it aloud, looked at Norman full of congratulation.

"How it ought to make one--" and there Norman broke off from the fullness of his heart.

"I'm glad he put both verses" said Ethel presently. "How pleased with you he must be!"

A silence while brother and sister both gazed intently at the crooked characters, till at last Ethel, with a long breath, resumed her ordinary tone, and said, "How well he has come to write with his left hand now."

"Yes. Did you know that he wrote himself to tell Ernescliffe Sir Matthew's opinion of Margaret?"

"No: did he?"

"Do you know, Ethel," said Norman, as he knelt on the floor, and tumbled miscellaneous articles out of his bag, "it is my belief that Ernescliffe is in love with her, and that papa thinks so."

"Dear me!" cried Ethel, starting up. "That is famous. We should always have Margaret at home when he goes to sea!"

"But mind, Ethel, for your life you must not say one word to any living creature."

"Oh, no, I promise you I won't, Norman, if you'll only tell me how you found it out."

"What first put it in my head was the first evening, while I was undoing the portmanteau; my father leaned on the mantel-shelf, and sighed and muttered, 'Poor Ernescliffe! I wish it may end well.' I thought he forgot that I was there, so I would not seem to notice, but I soon saw it was that he meant."

"How?" cried Ethel eagerly.

"Oh, I don't know--by Alan's way."

"Tell me--I want to know what people do when they are in love."

"Nothing particular," said Norman, smiling.

"Did you hear him inquire for her? How did he look?"

"I can't tell. That was when he met us at the station before I thought of it, and I had to see to the luggage. But I'll tell you one thing, Ethel; when papa was talking of her to Mrs. Mackenzie, at the other end of the room, all his attention went away in an instant from what he was saying. And once, when Harry said something to me about her, he started, and looked round so earnestly."

"Oh, yes--that's like people in books. And did he colour?"

"No; I don't recollect that he did," said Norman; "but I observed he never asked directly after her if he could help it, but always was trying to lead, in some round-about way, to hearing what she was doing."

"Did he call her Margaret?"

"I watched; but to me he always said, 'Your sister,' and if he had to speak of her to papa, he said, 'Miss May.' And then you should have seen his attention to papa. I could hardly get a chance of doing anything for papa."

"Oh, sure of it!" cried Ethel, clasping her hands. "But, poor man, how unhappy he must have been at having to go away when she was so ill!"

"Ay, the last time he saw her was when he carried her upstairs."

"Oh, dear! I hope he will soon come here again!"

"I don't suppose he will. Papa did not ask him."

"Dear me, Norman! Why not? Isn't papa very fond of him? Why shouldn't he come?"

"Don't you see, Ethel, that would be of no use while poor Margaret is no better. If he gained her affections, it would only make her unhappy."

"Oh, but she is much better. She can raise herself up now without help, and sat up ever so long this morning, without leaning back on her cushions. She is getting well--you know Sir Matthew said she would."

"Yes; but I suppose papa thinks they had better say nothing till she is quite well."

"And when she is! How famous it will be."

"Then there's another thing; he is very poor, you know."

"I am sure papa doesn't care about people being rich."

"I suppose Alan thinks he ought not to marry, unless he could make his wife comfortable."

"Look here--it would be all very easy: she should stay with us, and be comfortable here, and he go to sea, and get lots of prize money."

"And that's what you call domestic felicity!" said Norman, laughing.

"He might have her when he was at home," said Ethel.

"No, no; that would never do," said Norman. "Do you think Ernescliffe's a man that would marry a wife for her father to maintain her?"

"Why, papa would like it very much. He is not a mercenary father in a book."

"Hey! what's that?" said a voice Ethel little expected. "Contraband talk at contraband times? What's this!"

"Did you hear, papa?" said Ethel, looking down.

"Only your last words, as I came up to ask Norman what he had done with my pocket-book. Mind, I ask no impertinent questions; but, if you have no objection, I should like to know what gained me the honour of that compliment."

"Norman?" said Ethel interrogatively, and blushing in emulation of her brother, who was crimson.

"I'll find it," said he, rushing off with a sort of nod and sign, that conveyed to Ethel that there was no help for it.

So, with much confusion, she whispered into her papa's ear that Norman had been telling her something he guessed about Mr. Ernescliffe.

Her father at first smiled, a pleased amused smile. "Ah! ha! so Master June has his eyes and ears open, has he? A fine bit of gossip to regale you with on his return!"

"He told me to say not one word," said Ethel.

"Right--mind you don't," said Dr. May, and Ethel was surprised to see how sorrowful his face became. At the same moment Norman returned, still very red, and said, "I've put out the pocket-book, papa. I think I should tell you I repeated what, perhaps, you did not mean me to hear--you talked to yourself something of pitying Ernescliffe." The doctor smiled again at the boy's high-minded openness, which must have cost an effort of self-humiliation. "I can't say little pitchers have long ears, to a May-pole like you, Norman," said he; "I think I ought rather to apologise for having inadvertently tumbled in among your secrets; I assure you I did not come to spy you."

"Oh, no, no, no, no!" repeated Ethel vehemently. "Then you didn't mind our talking about it?"

"Of course not, as long as it goes no further. It is the use of sisters to tell them one's private sentiments. Is not it, Norman?"