happiness is the idea that sooner or later I may get you to
be my wife? Lily, will you say that it shall be so? Speak, Lily.
There is no one that will not be glad. Your uncle will consent,--has
consented. Your mother wishes it. Bell wishes it. My mother wishes
it. Lady Julia wishes it. You would be doing what everybody around
you wants you to do. And why should you not do it? It isn't that you
dislike me. You wouldn't talk about being my sister, if you had not
some sort of regard for me."

"I have a regard for you."

"Then why will you not be my wife? Oh, Lily, say the word now, here,
at once. Say the word, and you'll make me the happiest fellow in all
England." As he spoke he took her by both arms, and held her fast.
She did not struggle to get away from him, but stood quite still,
looking into his face, while the first sparkle of a salt tear formed
itself in each eye. "Lily, one little word will do it,--half a word,
a nod, a smile. Just touch my arm with your hand and I will take it
for a yes." I think that she almost tried to touch him; that the word
was in her throat, and that she almost strove to speak it. But there
was no syllable spoken, and her fingers did not loose themselves to
fall upon his sleeve. "Lily, Lily, what can I say to you?"

"I wish I could," she whispered;--but the whisper was so hoarse that
he hardly recognized the voice.

"And why can you not? What is there to hinder you? There is nothing
to hinder you, Lily."

"Yes, John; there is that which must hinder me."

"And what is it?"

"I will tell you. You are so good and so true, and so
excellent,--such a dear, dear friend, that I will tell you
everything, so that you may read my heart. I will tell you as I tell
mamma,--you and her and no one else;--for you are the choice friend
of my heart. I cannot be your wife because of the love I bear for
another man."

"And that man is he,--he who came here?"

"Of course it is he. I think, Johnny, you and I are alike in this,
that when we have loved, we cannot bring ourselves to change. You
will not change, though it would be so much better you should do so."

"No; I will never change."

"Nor can I. When I sleep I dream of him. When I am alone I cannot
banish him from my thoughts. I cannot define what it is to love him.
I want nothing from him,--nothing, nothing. But I move about through
my little world thinking of him, and I shall do so till the end. I
used to feel proud of my love, though it m