gave a direct lie--whatever their
mistress might have intended--"Know you not, that such bowings of the
head, and kissings of the hand, are but vain and worldly symbols and
delusions."

"Trifle not with me, I beseech you, Mildred," said the vexed lover, "for
my heart is sad and my mind is harassed. During the weary hours of my
watch, I have longed for a smile from that sweet face--a glance from those
bright eyes, as my only solace; and yet the hours passed by and you came
not to your window, although I had let you know that it was my duty to
keep this watch; and when you did come, you would have left again without
a single word to me. This was unkind. And now you are there, you bend your
brow upon me with an angry look. What have I done to offend you, Mildred?
You cannot doubt my love, my truth."

"And what is there in my conduct or in my words that can justify Master
Lyle in thus treating me as a trifler?" answered Mildred with a pouting
air, avoiding any direct answer to all his other remarks. "Methinks I have
every right to be offended at so unjust an accusation." But in spite of
the gross offence, Mistress Mildred now seemed to have no thought of
punishing it, by withdrawing from the window.

"I offend you! you know I would give the whole world, were it mine, to
spare you one painful feeling," cried the young man. "It is you who wrong
me, it is you who are unjust, and even now you seek to quarrel with me.
But perhaps you wish to break the troth you have given me--perhaps your
light heart has already offered its affections to another!"

"As you will, sir. Perhaps my light heart, as you are pleased to call it,
would do well to seek some less morose and tetchy guardian," said the
young lady, tossing up her head, and preparing again to close the windows.

But as her eye fell upon the despairing look and gestures of her lover,
the arched eyebrow was unknit, and raised with an expression of comic
vexation; a smile lurked for a moment in the dimples and corners of the
pouting mouth; and then at last broke out into a fit of decided laughter.

After indulging a moment in her mirth, Mildred looked at the young man
fondly and said, "Go to, Gerald! you show not the patient spirit of a
Christian man; and even now your face wears such a frown, as methinks must
have wrinkled the brow of the jealous blackamoor in those wicked
stage-plays, of which my poor mother told me, before my father chid her
for it, and bid her cease to