sted the hurricane with a strange sensation of delight
he had never known before.

Scarcely a word passed between them as they went; as the rain beat
heavily against her he would try as well as he could to shelter her;
when the cutting wind blew more severely, he would draw her arm closer
within his own; and yet, thus in silence, they grew to each other like
friends of many a year. A sense of trustfulness, a feeling of a common
object too, sufficed to establish between them a sentiment to be moulded
by the events of after-life into anything. Ay, so is it! Out of these
chance affinities grow sometimes the passion of a life, and sometimes
the disappointments that embitter existence!

"What a good fortune it was that brought you to my aid to-night," said
she; "I had not dared to have come this long road alone."

"What a good fortune mine to have even so humble a service to render
you! Jack used to talk to me of you for hours long. Nights just like
this have we passed together; he telling me about your habits and your
ways, so that this very incident seems to fit into the story of your
life as an every-day occurrence. I know," continued he, as she seemed
to listen attentively, "how you used to ride over the mountains at home,
visiting wild and out-of-the-way spots; how you joined him in his long
fishing excursions, exploring the deep mountain gorges while he lingered
by the riverside. The very names you gave these desolate places--taken
from old books of travel--showed me how a spirit of enterprise was in
your heart."

"Were they not happy days!" murmured she, half to herself.

"They must have been," said he, ardently; "to hear of them has charmed
the weariest watches of the night, and made me long to know you."

"Yes; but I am not what I was," said she, hastily. "Out of that dreamy,
strange existence I have awakened to a world full of its own stern
realities. That pleasant indolence has ill prepared me for the road I
must travel; and it was selfish too! The vulgarest cares of every-day
life are higher aims than all the mere soarings of imagination, and of
this truth I am only now becoming aware."

"But it was for never neglecting those very duties Jack used to praise
you; he said that none save himself knew you as other than the careful
mistress of a household."

"Poor fellow! ours was an humble retinue, and needed little guidance."

"I see," said Conway, "you are too proud to accept of such esteem as
mine; but y