y love is not
all lost."

"All clear now, sir," shouted the constable once more.

"Don't mind him," said Tom, still detaining her on the little-island.
"Since I met you in Edinburgh, Kate, I have seemed to be walking in a
dream. Do what I will, go where I will, I still have you before my eyes
and hear your sweet voice in my ears. I don't believe any girl was ever
loved more dearly than I love you, but I find it so hard to put into
words the thoughts that I have in my mind. For Heaven's sake, give me
some little gleam of hope to carry away with me. You don't dislike me,
Kate, do you?"

"You know that I don't, Cousin Tom," said the young lady, with downcast
eyes. He had cornered her so skilfully against the great lamp that she
could move neither to the right nor to the left.

"Do you like me, then, Kate?" he asked eagerly, with a loving light in
his earnest grey eyes.

"Of course I do."

"Do you think you could love me?" continued this persistent young man.
"I don't mean all at once, and in a moment, because I know very well
that I am not worthy of it. But in time don't you think you could come
to love me?"

"Perhaps," murmured Kate, with averted face. It was such a very little
murmur that it was wonderful that it should be audible at all; yet it
pealed in the young man's ears above the rattle and the clatter of the
busy street. His head was very near to hers at the time.

"Now's your time, sir," roared the semaphoric policeman.

Had Tom been in a less exposed position it is possible that he might
have acted upon that well-timed remark from the cunning constable.
The centre of a London crossing is not, however, a very advantageous
spot for the performance of love passages. As they walked on, threading
their way among the vehicles, Tom took his companion's hand in his, and
they exchanged one firm grip, which each felt to be of the nature of a
pledge. How sunny and bright the dull brick-lined streets appeared to
those two young people that afternoon. They were both looking into a
future which seemed to be one long vista of happiness and love. Of all
the gifts of Providence, surely our want of knowledge of the things
which are to come upon us is the most merciful, and the one we could
least dispense with!

So happy and so light-hearted were these two lovers that it was not
until they found themselves in Warwick Street once more that they came
down from the clouds, and realized that there were some co