an ally.

Mr. Dale arrived on the expected day and was kindly welcomed by my aunt,
who asked him to stay to tea. It was a superb evening, and he proposed
that we should go out on the water as was the custom at Tinker's Reach.

He had been an accomplished oar in College, and a dozen strokes sent the
light boat skimming beyond the bevy of similar craft by which we were
surrounded. The sea was calm as a mill-pond, and the moon was at the
full. I lay back with my face turned to the heavens and my fingers
trailing in the cool water. Mr. Dale rowed on until the lights on shore
seemed mere specks, and we could just perceive the gentle roll of the
Atlantic swell. He rested on his oars and listened. The voices of the
others were lost in the distance, and only the tinkle of a banjo wafted
from afar broke the night's tranquillity. The water was alive with
phosphorescence that sparkled like gems around the blades.

We had neither of us spoken since starting. I know not what were his
thoughts, but mine were full of happiness. I felt sure,--sure of his
love, and sure that he should have mine for the asking. And yet, so
perfect was my peace, that I hoped he would postpone the words that were
to make us still nearer to each other. We had talked so much of love and
of its rapture and unselfishness earlier in our acquaintance, that now
it was come to us silence seemed the most fitting commentary.

But he had made up his mind to speak at once.

"Virginia, I have brought you out here where we are alone, and where
only Nature can interrupt us, to tell you that I adore you. Let the
inconstant moon and twinkling stars laugh as they please. I know that
true love exists, for my soul is full of it at this moment. Speak,
dearest, and make me happy forever."

In the fulness of my transport at his ardent words, it seemed to me that
heaven was come down to earth. My dreams had promised no such
blessedness as this. Faintly and softly I murmured,--

"Roger, you know that I love you with all my heart."

"My darling!"

"My beloved!"

Is there an hour to compare in unqualified happiness with that in which
a woman of impulsive nature, ignorant of the world and blindly trusting,
whispers the confidences of her innocent bosom in the ear of her
accepted lover? Roger and I, alternately silent with bliss or
overflowing with the rapture of the heart's language, strolled arm in
arm along the moonlit shores far into the night.

Only one incident marr