t--when he felt his sleeve pulled gently. He turned
round and saw before him the wistful face of Fanny!

"So you would not come to the wedding?" said he.

"No. But I fancied you might be here alone--and sad."

"And you will not even wear the dress I gave you?"

"Another time. Tell me, are you unhappy?"

"Unhappy, Fanny! No; look around. The very burial-ground has a smile.
See the laburnums clustering over the wall, listen to the birds on the
dark yews above, and yonder see even the butterfly has settled upon her
grave!

"I am not unhappy." As he thus spoke he looked at her earnestly,
and taking both her hands in his, drew her gently towards him, and
continued: "Fanny, do you remember, that, leaning over that gate, I once
spoke to you of the happiness of marriage where two hearts are united?
Nay, Fanny, nay, I must go on. It was here in this spot,--it was here
that I first saw you on my return to England. I came to seek the dead,
and I have thought since, it was my mother's guardian spirit that drew
me hither to find you--the living! And often afterwards, Fanny, you
would come with me here, when, blinded and dull as I was, I came to
brood and to repine, insensible of the treasures even then perhaps
within my reach. But, best as it was: the ordeal through which I have
passed has made me more grateful for the prize I now dare to hope for.
On this grave your hand daily renewed the flowers. By this grave, the
link between the Time and the Eternity, whose lessons we have read
together, will you consent to record our vows? Fanny, dearest, fairest,
tenderest, best, I love you, and at last as alone you should be
loved!--I woo you as my wife! Mine, not for a season, but for ever--for
ever, even when these graves are open, and the World shrivels like a
scroll. Do you understand me?--do you heed me?--or have I dreamed that
that--"

He stopped short--a dismay seized him at her silence. Had he been
mistaken in his divine belief!--the fear was momentary: for Fanny, who
had recoiled as he spoke, now placing her hands to her temples, gazing
on him, breathlessly and with lips apart, as if, indeed, with great
effort and struggle her modest spirit conceived the possibility of the
happiness that broke upon it, advanced timidly, her face suffused in
blushes; and, looking into his eyes, as if she would read into his very
soul, said, with an accent, the intenseness of which showed that her
whole fate hung on his answer,--

"But this