tyr, he persuaded
himself to act the gentle ruffian. To which end, he was again absent
from Brookfield, for a space, and bitterly missed.

Emilia, for the last two Sundays, had taken Mr. Barrett's place at the
organ. She was playing the prelude to one of the evening hymns, when the
lover, whose features she dreaded to be once more forgetting, appeared
in the curtained enclosure. A stoppage in the tune, and a prolonged
squeal of the instrument, gave the congregation below matter to
speculate upon. Wilfrid put up his finger and sat reverently down, while
Emilia plunged tremblingly at the note that was howling its life away.
And as she managed to swim into the stream of the sacred melody again,
her head was turned toward her lover under a new sensation; and the
first words she murmured were, "We have never been in church together,
before."

"Not in the evening," he whispered, likewise impressed.

"No," said Emilia softly; flattered by his greater accuracy.

If Wilfrid could have been sure that he would be perfect master of that
sentimental crew known to him under the denomination of his feelings,
the place he selected for their parting interview might be held
creditable to this young officer's acknowledged strategical ability.
It was a place where any fervid appeals were impossible; where he could
contemplate her, listen to her, be near her, alone with her, having
nothing to dread from tears, supplications, or passion, as a consequence
of the short indulgence of his tenderness. But he had failed to reckon
on the chances that he himself might prove weak and be betrayed by the
crew for whose comfort he was always providing; and now, as she sat
there, her face being sideways to him, the flush of delight faint on her
cheek, and her eyelids half raised to the gilded pipes, while full and
sonorous harmony rolled out from her touch, it seemed the very chorus of
the heavens that she commanded, and a subtle misty glory descended upon
her forehead, which he was long in perceiving to be cast from a moisture
on his eyelids.

When the sermon commenced, Emilia quitted the organ and took his hand.
In very low whispers, they spoke:

"I have wanted to see you so!"

"You see me now, little woman."

"On Friday week next I am to go away."

"Nonsense! You shall not."

"Your sisters say, yes! Mr. Pericles has got my father's consent, they
say, to take me to Italy."

"Do you think of going?"

Emilia gazed at her nerveless hands l