eddening, "I
ran all the rest of the way) and looked at myself in the glass. Then,"
naively, "I knew you were right. Still I had my doubts; so I called Kit
and told her about it; and she," laughing, "said you were evidently a
person of great discrimination, so I suppose she agreed with you."

"She could hardly do otherwise."

"Yet sometimes," says Monica, with hesitation and a downcast face, "I
have thought it was all mere fancy with you, and that you don't love me
_really_."

"My sweetheart, what a cruel thing to say to me!"

"But see how you scold me! Only now," nervously plucking little bits of
bark from the trunk of the tree, "you accused me of dreadful things.
Yes, sometimes I doubt you."

"I wonder where I leave room for doubt? Yet I must convince you. What
shall I swear by, then?" he asks, half laughing: "the chaste Diana up
above--the lovers' friend--is in full glory to-night; shall I swear by
her?"

"'Oh, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, lest that thy love
prove likewise variable,'" quotes she archly; "and yet," with a sudden
change of mood, and a certain sweet gravity, "I do not mistrust you."

She leans slightly towards him, and unasked, gives her hand into his
keeping once again. She is full of pretty tender ways and womanly
tricks, and as for the best time for displaying them, for this she has a
natural talent.

Desmond, clasping her hand, looks at her keenly. His whole heart is in
his eyes.

"Tell me that you love me," he says, in a low unsteady voice.

"How can I? I don't know. I am not sure," she says, falteringly; "and,"
shrinking a little from him, "it is growing very late. See how the moon
has risen above the firs. I must go home."

"Tell me you love me first."

"I _must_ not love you; you know that."

"But if you might, you could?"

"Ye--es."

"Then I defy all difficulties,--aunts, and friends, and lovers. I shall
win you in the teeth of all barriers, and in spite of all opposition.
And now go home, my heart's delight, my best beloved. I have this
assurance from you, that your own lips have given me, and it makes me
confident of victory."

"But if you fail," she begins, nervously; but he will not listen to her.

"There is no such word," he says, gayly. "Or, if there is, I never
learnt it. Good-night, my love."

"Good-night." A little frightened by his happy vehemence she stands well
away from him, and holds out her hands in farewell. Taking them, he
opens them gent