ivine as Heaven itself to the two people who are
concerned in its ever new delights; but to us lookers-on its murmurs are
but fooleries, its sighs are ludicrous, and its written words absolute
imbecilities; and never a memory of our own lost lives can make the
spectacle of it in others anything but an irritating and idiotic
exhibition.

"I have read quite enough," continued Mrs. Miller, sternly, "to
understand the nature of it. It is from Mr. Pryme, I imagine?"

"Yes, mamma."

"And by what right, may I ask, does Mr. Pryme commence a letter to you in
the warm terms of affection which I have had the pleasure of reading?"

"By the right which I myself have given him," she answered, boldly.

Regardless of her cold, she sat upright in her bed; a flush of defiance
in her face, her short dark hair flung back from her brow in wild
confusion. She understood at once that all had been discovered, and she
was going to do battle for her lover.

"Do you mean to tell me, Beatrice, that you have engaged yourself to this
Mr. Pryme?"

"Certainly I have."

"You know very well that your father and I will never consent to it."

"Never is a long day, mamma."

"Don't take up my words like that. I consider, Beatrice, that you have
deceived me shamefully. You persuaded me to ask that young man to the
house because you said that Sophy Macpherson was fond of him."

"So she is."

"Beatrice, how can you be so wicked and tell such lies in the face of
that letter to yourself?"

"I never said he was fond of her," she answered, with just the vestige of
a twinkle in her eyes.

"If I had known, I would never have asked him to come," continued her
mother.

"No; I am sure you would not. But I did not tell you, mamma."

"I have other views for you. You must write to this young man and tell
him you will give him up."

"I certainly shall not do that."

"I shall not give my consent to your engagement."

"I never imagined that you would, mamma, and that is why I did not ask
for it."

And then Mrs. Miller got very angry indeed.

"What on earth do you intend to do, you ungrateful, disobedient,
rebellious child?"

"I mean to marry Herbert some day because I love him," answered her
daughter, coolly; "but I will not run away with him unless you force me
to it; and I hope, by-and-by, when Geraldine is grown up and can take my
place, that you will give us your consent and your blessing. I am quite
willing to wait a reasonable time for the