her sitting in the midst
of the fern leaves. He was by her side in a minute, and his dark,
handsome face lighted up with joy.

"How the sun shines!" he said. "I wonder the birds begin to sing and
the flowers to bloom before you are out, Miss Earle."

"But I am not their sun," replied Beatrice with a smile.

"But you are mine," cried Hugh; and before she could reply he was
kneeling at her feet, her hands clasped in his, while he told her of
the love that was wearing his life away.

No one could listen to such words unmoved; they were true and eloquent,
full of strange pathos. He told her how dark without her the future
would be to him, how sad and weary his life; whereas if she would only
love him, and let him claim her when he returned, he would make her as
happy as a queen. He would take her to the bright sunny lands--would
show her all the beauties and wonders she longed to see--would buy her
jewels and dresses such as her beauty deserved--would be her humble,
devoted slave, if she would only love him.

It was very pleasant--the bright morning, the picturesque glade, the
warmth and brightness of summer all around. Beatrice looked at the
handsome, pale face with emotion, she felt Hugh's warm lips pressed to
her hand, she felt hot tears rain upon her fingers, and wondered at
such love. Yes, this was the love she had read of and thought about.

"Beatrice," cried Hugh, "do not undo me with one word. Say you love
me, my darling--say I may return and claim you as my own. Your whole
life shall be like one long, bright summer's day."

She was carried away by the burning torrent of passionate words. With
all her spirit and pride she felt weak and powerless before the mighty
love of this strong man. Almost unconscious of what she did, Beatrice
laid her white hands upon the dark, handsome head of her lover.

"Hush, Hugh," she said, "you frighten me. I do love you; see, you
tears wet my hand."

It was not a very enthusiastic response, but it satisfied him. He
clasped the young girl in his arms, and she did not resist; he kissed
the proud lips and the flushed cheek. Beatrice Earle said no word; he
was half frightened, half touched, and wholly subdued.

"Now you are mine," cried Hugh--"mine, my own peerless one; nothing
shall part us but death!"

"Hush!" cried Beatrice, again shuddering as with cold fear. "That is a
word I dislike and dread so much, Hugh--do not use it."

"I will not," he replied; and then