pating a refusal, and how unprepared to receive it. She saw it,
there was no doubt manifested in the eager expressive eyes, in the warm
impulsive manner blended with a gentle earnestness that might have won
the heart of a girl whose affections were disengaged. He looked so
handsome, so loveable, that Isabel felt she might indeed have been
content to take him, had not her affections been given to another, and
she grieved to think of the pain she must inflict.

It might have been easier if he had not looked so bright and hopeful
about it, or if she could have told him of her engagement, but that was
out of the question, he seemed so certain of success, so utterly
unconscious of the fate that awaited him, that she could have wept, but
resolutely repressing her tears, she waited with heightening color to
hear the words that were to be so kindly, yet so vainly spoken.

"Dearest Isabel," he said in accents soft and winning. "I have loved you
ever since I first saw you on that Sunday afternoon, and all that I have
seen of you since, has only increased my esteem. But of late you have
been more retiring than formerly, and I have even thought that you
avoided me sometimes, thinking I fear, that my attentions (to use a
common phrase) meant nothing, but that is not the case, I am not one of
those, who merely to gratify their own vanity, would endeavor to win
affection, which they do not,--cannot return. No dearest, I love you
truly, unalterably,--will you then accept my love, and give me the right
and the inexpressibly pleasure to share all your joys and sorrows. Tell
me dear Isabel, will you be my wife."

She was trembling--almost gasping, and he would have aided her with his
supporting arm, but she sank away from him sobbing "It can never, never
be."

"Why do you say that Isabel," he asked reproachfully, while the
expression of his countenance became that of unmitigated sorrow.

"Even could I return your affection," she answered more calmly, "It
would not be right to accept you under the circumstances. Your parents
would consider, that as their governess, I ought to know my duty
better."

"What difference could your being the governess make," he asked.

"Every difference in their opinion."

"But as I am the only son, of course they would raise no objection."

"That makes it the more certain that they would do so," she replied.

"Oh! Isabel" he exclaimed passionately, "do not reason in this cool way,
when my whole life