aintain,' replied Mr. Hargrave. 'I
will not allow myself to be worse than my fellows; but you, Madam--I
equally maintain there is nobody like you. But are you happy?' he asked
in a serious tone.

'As happy as some others, I suppose.'

'Are you as happy as you desire to be?'

'No one is so blest as that comes to on this side eternity.'

'One thing I know,' returned he, with a deep sad sigh; 'you are
immeasurably happier than I am.'

'I am very sorry for you, then,' I could not help replying.

'Are you, indeed? No, for if you were you would be glad to relieve me.'

'And so I should if I could do so without injuring myself or any other.'

'And can you suppose that I should wish you to injure yourself? No: on
the contrary, it is your own happiness I long for more than mine. You
are miserable now, Mrs. Huntingdon,' continued he, looking me boldly in
the face. 'You do not complain, but I see--and feel--and know that you
are miserable--and must remain so as long as you keep those walls of
impenetrable ice about your still warm and palpitating heart; and I am
miserable, too. Deign to smile on me and I am happy: trust me, and you
shall be happy also, for if you are a woman I can make you so--and I will
do it in spite of yourself!' he muttered between his teeth; 'and as for
others, the question is between ourselves alone: you cannot injure your
husband, you know, and no one else has any concern in the matter.'

'I have a son, Mr. Hargrave, and you have a mother,' said I, retiring
from the window, whither he had followed me.

'They need not know,' he began; but before anything more could be said on
either side, Esther and Arthur re-entered the room. The former glanced
at Walter's flushed, excited countenance, and then at mine--a little
flushed and excited too, I daresay, though from far different causes.
She must have thought we had been quarrelling desperately, and was
evidently perplexed and disturbed at the circumstance; but she was too
polite or too much afraid of her brother's anger to refer to it. She
seated herself on the sofa, and putting back her bright, golden ringlets,
that were scattered in wild profusion over her face, she immediately
began to talk about the garden and her little playfellow, and continued
to chatter away in her usual strain till her brother summoned her to
depart.

'If I have spoken too warmly, forgive me,' he murmured on taking his
leave, 'or I shall never forgive myself.' Esthe