onvincing. They have met
clandestinely, and so corresponded; the knot-hole in the magnolia
serving them as a post-box. At first, only phrases of friendship in
their conversation; the same in the letters thus surreptitiously
exchanged. For despite Clancy's courage among men, he is a coward in
the presence of women--in hers more than any.

For all this, at their latest interview, he had thrown aside his
shyness, and spoken words of love--fervent love, in its last appeal. He
had avowed himself wholly hers, and asked her to be wholly his. She
declined giving him an answer _viva voce_, but promised it in writing.
He will receive it in a letter, to be deposited in the place convened.

He feels no offence at her having thus put him off. He believes it to
have been but a whim of his sweetheart--the caprice of a woman, who has
been so much nattered and admired. He knows, that, like the Anne
Hathaway of Shakespeare, Helen Armstrong "hath a way" of her own. For
she is a girl of no ordinary character, but one of spirit, free and
independent, consonant with the scenes and people that surrounded her
youth. So far from being offended at her not giving him an immediate
answer, he but admires her the more. Like the proud eagle's mate, she
does not condescend to be wooed as the soft cooing dove, nor yield a too
easy acquiescence.

Still daily, hourly, does he expect the promised response. And twice,
sometimes thrice, a day pays visit to the forest post-office.

Several days have elapsed since their last interview; and yet he has
found no letter lying. Little dreams he, that one has been sent, with a
_carte de visite_ enclosed; and less of both being in the possession of
his greatest enemy on earth.

He is beginning to grow uneasy at the delay, and shape conjectures as to
the cause. All the more from knowing, that a great change is soon to
take place in the affairs of the Armstrong family. A knowledge which
emboldened him to make the proposal he has made.

And now, his day's hunting done, he is on his way for the tract of
woodland in which stands the sweet trysting tree.

He has no thought of stopping, or turning aside; nor would he do so for
any small game. But at this moment a deer--a grand antlered stag--comes
"loping" along.

Before he can bring his gun to bear upon it, the animal is out of sight;
having passed behind the thick standing trunks of the cypresses. He
restrains his hound, about to spring off on th