"That must be Mrs. Dalziel and the boys."

"Then I had better go. Good-by"

The daydream was over. It had all come back again--the forlorn, dreary,
hard-working world.

"Good-by, Mr. Roy." And they shook hands.

"One word," he said hastily. "I shall write to you--you will allow
me?--and I shall see you several times, a good many times before I go?"

"I hope so."

"Then, for the present, good-by. That means," he added, earnestly,
"'God be with you!' And I know he always will."

In another minute Fortune found herself standing beside the laurel
bush, alone, listening to the sound of Mr. Roy's footsteps down the
road--listening, listening, as if, with the exceeding tension, her
brain would burst.

The carriage came, passed by; it was not Mrs. Dalziel's after all. She
thought he might discover this, and come back again; so she waited a
little--five minutes, ten--beside the laurel bush. But he did not come.
No footstep, no voice; nothing but the faint, far-away sound of the long
waves washing in upon the sands.

It was not the brain that felt like to burst now, but the heart. She