of an ordinary cavalier at the side of Miss
Clementina, a few paces in the rear of the party. But this safe distance
gave them the opportunity of conversing without being overheard,--an
apparently discreet precaution.

"Your father was so exceedingly affable to me the other day that if I
hadn't given you my promise to say nothing, I think I would have fallen
on my knees to him then and there, revealed my feelings, asked for your
hand and his blessing--or whatever one does at such a time. But how long
do you intend to keep me in this suspense?"

Clementina turned her clear eyes half abstractedly upon him, as if
imperfectly recalling some forgotten situation. "You forget," she said,
"that part of your promise was that you wouldn't even speak of it to me
again without my permission."

"But my time is so short now. Give me some definite hope before I go.
Let me believe that when we meet in New York"--

"You will find me just the same as now! Yes, I think I can promise THAT.
Let that suffice. You said the other day you liked me because I had not
changed for five years. You can surely trust that I will not alter in as
many months."

"If I only knew"--

"Ah, if I only knew,--if WE ALL only knew. But we don't. Come, Mr.
Grant, let it rest as it is. Unless you want to go still further back
and have it as it WAS, at Sidon. There I think you fancied Euphemia
most."

"Clementina!"

"That is my name, and those people ahead of us know it already."

"You are called CLEMENTINA,--but you are not merciful!"

"You are very wrong, for you might see that Mr. Shipley has twice
checked his horse that he might hear what you are saying, and Phemie is
always showing Mrs. Ashwood something in the landscape behind us."

All this was the more hopeless and exasperating to Grant since in the
young girl's speech and manner there was not the slightest trace of
coquetry or playfulness. He could not help saying a little bitterly: "I
don't think that any one would imagine from your manner that you were
receiving a declaration."

"But they might imagine from yours that you had the right to quarrel
with me,--which would be worse."

"We cannot part like this! It is too cruel to me."

"We cannot part otherwise without the risk of greater cruelty."

"But say at least, Clementina, that I have no rival. There is no other
more favored suitor?"

"That is so like a man--and yet so unlike the proud one I believed you
to be. Why should a man like