re as was his love toward me.

"One day I sent Harry a note, with a purse which I had knitted for
him, and requested that he would accompany me in the evening, when
there was to be a horseback-party on the lake-shore. In about half an
hour much was I astonished by the return of the messenger, with an
answer to my note, and my _rejected gift_. He declined the ride also,
saying that he had a severe headache--(well might his head ache when
it contained a brain capable of suggesting _such_ a note.) After some
few preliminaries, Harry proceeded to tell me that my gifts were
altogether unacceptable so long as my heart continued not right
toward him; that I had grieved him beyond all power of expression by
the heartlessness I had exhibited _in my disregard of all his wishes
and opinions_; this strange note ended by begging that I would not
join the riding-party that night; that he would visit me in the
evening, and receive from me then any explanations I might be ready to
make.

"In ten minutes more the messenger was on his way back to Harry
Kirkland's office, with a neat package, which contained the young
man's notes, miniature, gifts, &c., with an assurance, which I wrote
with a most steady hand, that my evening ride would, doubtless, prove
more agreeable than a _tete-tete_ with him, and that, as I had no
explanations or apologies to offer, he need not be under the
inconvenience of seeking me again at home, or elsewhere. I will not
speak of the manner in which I passed that afternoon, after I had
returned Harry's _second_ note, _un_answered, and _un_opened; nor what
thoughts were busy in my mind, nor what feelings were busy in my
heart. But I will tell you this, at tea-time, when father came home,
_he_ did not reject his daughter's kiss, or the purse either; and now
it is snugly resting in the bottom of his pocket, well-filled, as I
hope it ever will be.

"That moonlight ride--you remember it; perhaps you remember, also,
that there was no gayer mortal among you than a certain Florence
Cleveland. She might not have slept _quite_ soundly that night, when
she was alone in her little chamber, but it was not _very_ long that
Harry Kirkland's image disturbed her dreams. Harry was proud as I;
doubtless he thought himself the abused one, (and _that_, you know, is
wonderfully efficacious in curing heart-wounds,) and I can readily
believe that many times since he has blessed the day that saved him
from _coquetting_ Florence Clevel