d to carry so that it would not be noticed. She was
thankful he did not know what was in it.

"Do you often take such early walks as this?"

"No, not often," said Elizabeth guiltily. "I row more."

"So early?"

"No, not generally. Though there is no time more pleasant."

"You are looking well," he said gravely. "Better than I ever
saw you look."

"It's very odd," thought Elizabeth, -- "it must be the flush of
my walk -- I didn't look so this morning in the glass -- nor
last night. --" But she looked up and said boldly, laughing,

"I thought you came here to see the prospect, Mr. Landholm."

"I have been looking at it," he said quietly. "I need not say
anything about that -- it never changes."

"Do you mean that I do?" said Elizabeth.

"Everybody ought to change for the better, always," he said
with a little smile, -- "so I hope you are capable of that."

Elizabeth thought in her heart, though she was no better, yet
that she had truly changed for the better, since former times;
she half wanted to tell him so, the friend who had had most to
do with changing her. But a consciousness of many things and
an honest fear of speaking good of herself, kept her lips
shut; though her heart beat with the wish and the doubt.
Winthrop's next words in a few minutes decided it.

"What is the fact, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth hesitated, -- and hesitated. He looked at her.

"I hope I am changed, a little, Mr. Landholm; but there is a
great deal more to change!"

Her face was very ingenuous and somewhat sorrowful, as she
turned it towards him; but his looked so much brighter than
she had ever seen it, that the meeting of the two tides was
just more than her spirits could bear. The power of commanding
herself, which for the last few minutes had been growing less
and less, gave way. Her look shrank from his. Winthrop had
come nearer to her, and had clasped the hand that was nearest
him and held it in his own. It was a further expression of the
pleasure she had seen in his smile. Elizabeth was glad that
her own face was hidden by her sunbonnet. She would not have
either its pain or its pleasure to be seen. Both were sharp
enough just then. But strong necessity made her keep outwardly
quiet.

"What does the change date from?"

"As to time, do you mean?" said Elizabeth struggling.

"As to time, and motive."

"The time is but lately," she said with a tremulous voice, --
"though I have thought about it, more or less, fo