that I must have something, if only foolish dreams, to fill my
life.

At first there was only pain in the thought of him, but
afterwards a faint, misty little pleasure crept in, like a mirage
from a land of lost delight.

Ten years slipped away thus. And then Hester died. Her illness
was sudden and short; but, before she died, she asked me to
promise that I would never marry Hugh Blair.

She had not mentioned his name for years. I thought she had
forgotten all about him.

"Oh, dear sister, is there any need of such a promise?" I asked,
weeping. "Hugh Blair does not want to marry me now. He never
will again."

"He has never married--he has not forgotten you," she said
fiercely. "I could not rest in my grave if I thought you would
disgrace your family by marrying beneath you. Promise me,
Margaret."

I promised. I would have promised anything in my power to make
her dying pillow easier. Besides, what did it matter? I was
sure that Hugh would never think of me again.

She smiled when she heard me, and pressed my hand.

"Good little sister--that is right. You were always a good girl,