`I want you to look at this book, and, if you please, to take it, and peruse it at your leisure. I make no apology for calling you out on such a lovely evening, though it be for a matter of no greater importance.'

`Tell him to come in, mamma,' said Arthur.

`Would you like to come in?' asked the lady.

`Yes; I should like to see your improvements in the garden.'

`And how your sister's roots have prospered in my charge,' added she, as she opened the gate.

And we sauntered through the garden, and talked of the flowers, the trees, and the book,--and then of other things. The evening was kind and genial, and so was my companion. By degrees, I waxed more warm and tender than, perhaps, I had ever been before; but still I said nothing tangible, and she attempted no repulse; until, in passing a moss rose-tree that I had brought her some weeks since, in my sister's name, she plucked a beautiful half-open bud and bade me give it to Rose.

`May I not keep it myself?' I asked.

`No; but here is another for you'

Instead of taking it quietly, I likewise took the hand that offered it, and looked into her face. She let me hold it for a moment, and I saw a Bash of ecstatic brilliance in her eye, a glow of glad excitement on her face--I thought my hour of victory was come--but instantly, a painful recollection seemed to flash upon her; a cloud of anguish darkened her brow, a marble paleness blanched her cheek and lip; there seemed a moment of inward conflict,--and with a sudden effort, she withdrew her hand, and retreated a step or two back.

`Now Mr Markham,' said she, with a kind of desperate calmness, I must tell you plainly, that I cannot do with this. I like your company, because I am alone here, and your conversation pleases me more than that of any other person; but if you cannot be content to regard me as a friend--a plain, cold, motherly, or sisterly friend, I must beg you to leave me now, and let me alone hereafter--in fact, we must be strangers for the future.'

`I will, then--be your friend,--or brother, or anything you wish, if you will only let me Continue to see you; but tell me why I cannot be anything more?'

There was a perplexed and thoughtful pause.

`Is it in consequence of some rash vow?'

`It is something of the kind,' she answered--`some day I may tell you, but, at present you had better leave me; and never, Gilbert, put me to the painful necessity of repeating what I have just now said to you!'-- she earnestly added, giving me her hand in serious kindness. How sweet, how musical my own name sounded in her mouth!

`I will not,' I replied. `But you pardon this offence?'

`On condition that you never repeat it.'

`And may I come to see you now and then?'

`Perhaps,--occasionally; provided you never abuse the privilege.'

`I make no empty promises, but you shall see.'