so far as I can fancy its privileges, I love rank; but if the tidings
came suddenly upon me that I had neither one nor the other, I feel a
sort of self-confidence that tells me I should not be dispirited or
discouraged."

Beecher gazed at her with such admiration that a deep blush rose to
her face, as she said, "You may put this heroism of mine to the test
at once, by telling me frankly what you know about my station. Am I a
Princess in disguise, Mr. Beecher, or am I only an item in the terrible
category of what you have just called 'wrong people'?"

If the dread and terror of Grog Davis had been removed from Annesley
Beecher's mind, there is no saying to what excess of confidence the
impulse of the moment might have carried him. He was capable of telling
her any and every thing. For a few seconds, indeed, the thought of being
her trusted friend so overcame his prudence that he actually took her
hand between his own, as the prelude of the revelations he was about to
open; when, suddenly, a vision of Davis swept before his mind,--Davis,
in one of his moods of wrath, paroxysms of passion as they were, wherein
he stopped at nothing. "He 'd send me to the dock as a felon; he 'd
shoot me down like a dog," muttered he to himself, as, dropping her
hand, he leaned back in the carriage.

She bent over and looked calmly into his face. Her own was now perfectly
pale and colorless, and then, with a faint, sad smile, she said,--

"I see that you 'd like to gratify me. It is through some sense of
delicacy and reserve that you hesitate. Be it so. Let us be good friends
now, and perhaps, in time, we may trust each other thoroughly."

Beecher took her hand once more, and, bending down, kissed it fervently.
What a strange thrill was that that ran through his heart, and what an
odd sense of desolation was it as he relinquished that fair, soft
hand, as though it were that by its grasp he held on to life and hope
together! "Oh," muttered he to himself, "why was not she--why was not he
himself--twenty things that neither of them were?"

"I wish I could read your thoughts," said she, smiling gently at him.

"I wish to heaven you could!" cried he, with an honest energy that his
nature had not known for many a day.

For the remainder of the way neither spoke, beyond some chance remark
upon the country or the people. It was as though the bridge between them
was yet too frail to cross, and that they trusted to time to establish
that inter