scene, and a pretty scene enough, on which his eyes
rested, and yet it was one that gave Percival little pleasure. The room
was not very light, and such sunshine as entered it fell through the
coloured panes of a stained-glass window high in the wall. At an old oak
table, black and polished with age, sat two persons--a master and a
pupil. They had one book between them, and the pupil was reading from
it. Papers, dictionaries, and copybooks strewed the table; it was
evident that other pupils had been there before, but that they had
abandoned the scene. Percival set his teeth, and the brightness went out
of his eyes. If only the pupil had not been Elizabeth!

It was not that she showed any other feeling than that of interest in
the book that she was reading. Her eyes were fixed upon the printed
page; her lips opened only to pronounce slowly and carefully the
unfamiliar syllables before her. The tutor was quiet, grave, reserved;
but Percival noticed, quickly and jealously, that he once or twice
raised his eyes as if to observe the expression of Elizabeth's fair
face; and, free from all offence as that glance certainly was, it made a
wild and unreasoning fury rise up in the lover's heart. He looked, he
heard an interchange of quiet question and answer, he saw a smile on her
face, a curiously wistful look on his; then came a scraping sound, as
the chairs were pushed back over the marble floor, and master and pupil
rose. The lesson was over. Percival dropped the curtain.

He was so pale when Elizabeth came to him in the little ante-room that
she was startled.

"Are you not well, Percival?" she asked, as she laid her hand in his.
She did not allow him to kiss her; she did not allow him to announce her
engagement; and, as he stood looking down into her eyes, he felt that
the present state of things was very unsatisfactory.

"I shall be better if you administer the cure," he said. "Give me a
kiss, Elizabeth; just one. Remember that I have not seen you for nearly
eight months."

"I thought we made a compact," she began, trying to withdraw her hand
from his; but he interrupted her.

"That I should not kiss you--often; not that I should never kiss you at
all, Elizabeth. And as I have come all the way from England, and have
not seen you for so long, you might as well show me whether you are glad
or not."

"I am very glad to see you," said Elizabeth, quietly.

"Are you? Then kiss me, my darling,--only once!"

He put one a