"A charming prospect!" returned Mrs. St. Clare, in mocking tones, that rather took Frank and his earnestness aback. "Well, I wash my hands of you both, Mr. Francis Raynor. As Daisy has made her bed so must she lie on it."

Daisy was summoned to the conference. She came in with timid steps; and stood, tearful and trembling, in her pretty morning dress of pale muslin. It chanced to be the one she was married in. Frank Raynor drew her arm within his, and stood with her.

"You may well shrink from me, unhappy girl!" cried Mrs. St. Clare. "What have you done with your wedding-ring?"

With trembling hands, Daisy produced it, attached to its blue ribbon. Frank took it from her, broke the ribbon, and placed the ring on its proper finger.

"Never again to be taken off, my dear," he said. "Our troubles are over."