have done a few months before; and when a few instants later they parted
in their old fashion at the foot of the stairs, she did not turn to give
him the accustomed smile and nod with which she used to mount the
stairs, spiral by spiral, and disappear in her little room above. Yet he
did not grieve at the change, but stood looking up the way she had gone,
like a man before whom some vision of unexpected promise had opened.

XXXI.

A QUESTION.

"Think on thy sins."--OTHELLO.

The next morning when Mr. Sylvester came down to breakfast, he found on
the library-table an exquisite casket, similar to the one he had given
Paula the night before, but larger, and filled with flowers of the most
delicious odor.

"For Miss Fairchild," explained Samuel, who was at that moment passing
through the room.

With a pang of jealous surprise, that, however, failed to betray itself
in his steadily composed countenance, Mr. Sylvester advanced to the side
of the table, and lifted up the card that hung attached to the beautiful
present. The name he read there seemed to startle him; he moved away,
and took up his paper with a dark flush on his brow, that had not
disappeared when Miss Belinda entered the room.

"Humph!" was her immediate exclamation, as her eye rested upon the
conspicuous offering in the centre of the apartment. But instantly
remembering herself, advanced with a cheerful good-morning, which
however did not prevent her eyes from wandering with no small
satisfaction towards this fresh evidence of Mr. Ensign's assiduous
regard.

"Paula is remembered by others than ourselves," remarked Mr. Sylvester,
probably observing her glance.

"Yes; she has a very attentive suitor in Mr. Ensign," returned Miss
Belinda shortly. "A pleasant appearing young man," she ejaculated next
moment; "worthy in many respects of success, I should say."

"Has he--do you mean to say that he has visited you in Grotewell?" asked
Mr. Sylvester, his eye upon the paper in his hand.

"Certainly; a few more interviews will settle it."

The paper rustled in Mr. Sylvester's grasp, but his voice was composed
if not formal, as he observed, "She regards his attentions then with
favor?"

"She wears his flowers in her bosom, and brightens like a flower herself
when he is seen to approach. If allowed to go her way unhindered, I have
but little doubt as to how it will end. Mr. Ensign is not handsome, but
I am told that he has every other qualifi