And there were readings round the evening fire, of touching tales or burning verse; in which, when they found themselves and their own emotions pictured, their accents fell and trembled as they read: And there was music, breathing more than language knows how to utter-singing, in which their souls rushed out with their voices, and blended as softly and rapturously as they.

Yes, Yes-spite of all that lay in the dim future—it was a happy time! How few like it, does life afford to any !

At last it ended. The visitors departed; and Agnes and Walter were left together, alone.

CHAPTER XI.

TOGETHER and alone!

Agnes trembled, as Walter turned quickly, on the door closing behind the parting guests, and sate down on the sofa near her.

'My own little Agnes," he began, seizing her hand, "Thank God, we can speak together again at last, without eyes and ears around us. Did you contrive them on purpose to keep me from you? Do you wish me away, dearest ?"

"So far from it, dear Walter, that I

wish you now to tell me you never will be voluntarily away from me.”

"Voluntarily! How could I be voluntarily away from you? What do you mean ?"

66

By your own act, then, you will not leave me, Walter ?"

"Of course I will not-how childish of

you to ask me, when you know

She interrupted him hastily,

"Will you promise me, Walter? will you pledge me, solemnly, that, come what may-come what may"-she repeated, dwelling on the words, " you will never desert me; that my home shall be yours while I live; that, whatever else may happen, by act of yours we shall not part."

"I do pledge you, solemnly, sacredly,

She breathed more freely, and tears of thankfulness gushed from her eyes;

"Desert you!-Never while I breathe— My own, only love:-But why do you ask this of me, in this way? Has anything I have done given you cause to doubt me? Or do you wish to be beforehand with me, because you know that now the time has come when I have to claim compensation for these past weeks of silent distance ?— Dearest," sinking his voice, and drawing closer to her, "we have been living this tantalising life too long: It is time there were more than vague words of affection and fidelity between us. I cannot endure this longer. Tell me, my own Agnes, tell me now-when will you be mine?"

"Walter," began Agnes, after a while, in a low, trembling voice, "Walter, you know I love you, do you not ?"

He answered her by a passionate kiss. "You know I have loved you for long years: You know my heart, from the first hour it turned towards you, has never for an instant wavered: You know I have no thought but for you; no happiness but in your happiness

"And in my love, Agnes," he interrupted, "in my love. Could you be happy, if I were happy, but not with you, through you? If I forgot you, and were happy with another,—would you be happy then?"

She was foiled. The question struck too home. She leaned her head on her hand, without answering.

"But go on," rejoined he unsuspectingly, and little aware how his simple, natural