he poor untutored
little piece of womanhood in a false position--of engrafted pedantry
and incoherent nature.

"I am certain it must have been judicial blindness," she sobbed. "I
can't think how I didn't see it, but I didn't; and he isn't, is he? And
then a curtain rose.... O, what a moment was that! But I knew at once
that _you were_; you had but to appear from your carriage, and I knew
it. O, she must be a fortunate young lady! And I have no fear with you,
none--a perfect confidence."

"Madam," said I, "a gentleman."

"That's what I mean--a gentleman," she exclaimed. "And he--and
that--_he_ isn't. O, how shall I dare meet father!" And disclosing to me
her tear-stained face, and opening her arms with a tragic gesture: "And
I am quite disgraced before all the young ladies, my school-companions!"
she added.

"O, not so bad as that!" I cried. "Come, come, you exaggerate, my dear
Miss ----? Excuse me if I am too familiar: I have not yet heard your
name."

"My name is Dorothy Greensleeves, sir: why should I conceal it? I fear
it will only serve to point an adage to future generations, and I had
meant so differently! There was no young female in the county more
emulous to be thought well of than I. And what a fall was there! O, dear
me, what a wicked, piggish donkey of a girl I have made of myself, to be
sure! And there is no hope! O, Mr.----"

And at that she paused and asked my name.

I am not writing my eulogium for the Academy; I will admit it was
unpardonably imbecile, but I told it her. If you had been there--and
seen her, ravishingly pretty and little, a baby in years and mind--and
heard her talking like a book, with so much of schoolroom propriety in
her manner, with such an innocent despair in the matter--you would
probably have told her yours. She repeated it after me.

"I shall pray for you all my life," she said. "Every night, when I
retire to rest, the last thing I shall do is to remember you by name."

Presently I succeeded in winning from her her tale, which was much what
I had anticipated: a tale of a schoolhouse, a walled garden, a
fruit-tree that concealed a bench, an impudent raff posturing in church,
an exchange of flowers and vows over the garden wall, a silly schoolmate
for a confidante, a chaise and four, and the most immediate and perfect
disenchantment on the part of the little lady. "And there is nothing to
be done!" she wailed in conclusion. "My error is irretrievable, I am
quite forced