I have none," said Elizabeth.

"Then give me the benefit of your wishes. Wish that my wish may be
fulfilled," said Brian.

She hesitated for a moment, then smiled, and threw a crooked pin into
the water.

"I have wished," she said, as she watched it sink, "but I must not say
what I wish: that breaks the charm."

"Sit down and rest," said Brian, persuasively, as she turned away.
"There is a little shade here; and the others will no doubt join us
by-and-bye. You must be tired."

"I am not tired, but I will sit down for a little while," said
Elizabeth.

She seated herself on a stone beside the well; and Brian also sat down,
but rather below her, so that he seemed to be sitting at her feet, and
could look up into her face when he spoke. He kept silence at first, but
said at last, with gentle deference of tone:--

"Miss Murray, there was something that you said you would tell me when
you had the opportunity."

She paused before she answered.

"Not just now," he understood her to say at last, but her words were low
and indistinct.

"Then--may I tell you something?"

She spoke more clearly in reply.

"I think not."

"Forgive me for saying so, but you must hear it some time. Why not now?"

She did not speak. Her colour varied a little, and her brows contracted
with a slight look of pain.

"I do not know how to be silent any longer," he said, raising his eyes
to her face, with a grave and manly resolve in their brown depths. "I
have thought a great deal about it--about you; and it seems to me that
there is no real reason why I should not speak. You are of age; you can
do as you please; and I could work for both--because--Elizabeth--I love
you."

It was brokenly, awkwardly said, after all; but more completely uttered,
perhaps, than if he had told his tale at greater length, for then he
would have been stopped before he reached the end. As it was,
Elizabeth's look of terror and dismay brought him to a sudden pause.

"Oh, no!" she said, "no; you don't mean that. Take back what you have
said, Mr. Stretton."

"I cannot take it back," he said, quickly, "and I would not if I could;
because you love me, too."

The conviction of his words made her turn pale. She darted a distressed
look at him, half-rose from her seat, and then sat down again. Twice she
tried to speak and failed, for her tongue clove to the roof of her
mouth. But at last she found her voice.

"You do not know," she said, hurriedly and hoarsel