vents, it is evidently exaggerated. Perhaps an invasion of the
poultry-yard, in which some hungry fox was the real offender, may be
the true origin of this terrible tale. Nay, love, nay, do not look thus
reproachfully; it will be time enough for us when we have sifted the
grounds of alarm to take our precautions; meanwhile, do not blame me if
in your presence I cannot admit fear. Oh Madeline, dear, dear Madeline,
could you know, could you dream, how different life has become to me
since I knew you! Formerly, I will frankly own to you, that dark and
boding apprehensions were wont to lie heavy at my heart; the cloud was
more familiar to me than the sunshine. But now I have grown a child, and
can see around me nothing but hope; my life was winter--your love has
breathed it into spring."

"And yet, Eugene--yet--" "Yet what, my Madeline?"

"There are still moments when I have no power over your thoughts;
moments when you break away from me; when you mutter to yourself
feelings in which I have no share, and which seem to steal the
consciousness from your eye and the colour from your lip."

"Ah, indeed!" said Aram quickly; "what! you watch me so closely?"

"Can you wonder that I do?" said Madeline, with an earnest tenderness in
her voice.

"You must not then, you must not," returned her lover, almost fiercely;
"I cannot bear too nice and sudden a scrutiny; consider how long I have
clung to a stern and solitary independence of thought, which allows no
watch, and forbids account of itself to any one. Leave it to time and
your love to win their inevitable way. Ask not too much from me now. And
mark, mark, I pray you, whenever, in spite of myself, these moods you
refer to darken over me, heed not, listen not--Leave me! solitude is
their only cure! promise me this, love--promise."

"It is a harsh request, Eugene, and I do not think I will grant you so
complete a monopoly of thought;" answered Madeline, playfully, yet half
in earnest.

"Madeline," said Aram, with a deep solemnity of manner, "I ask a request
on which my very love for you depends. From the depths of my soul, I
implore you to grant it; yea, to the very letter."

"Why, why, this is--" began Madeline, when encountering the full, the
dark, the inscrutable gaze of her strange lover, she broke off in a
sudden fear, which she could not analyse; and only added in a low and
subdued voice, "I promise to obey you."

As if a weight were lifted from his heart, Aram now b