grassy pathway.

I knew of course a good deal of Zaluski's character, because my own
existence and growth pointed out what he was not. Still, to study a man
by a process of negation is tedious, and though I knew that he was not a
Nihilist, or a free-lover, or an atheist, or an unprincipled fellow with
a dangerous temper, yet I was curious to see him as he really was.

"If you only knew how happy you had made me!" he was saying. And indeed,
as far as happiness went, there was not much to choose between them, I
fancy; for Gertrude Morley looked radiant, and in her clove-like eyes
there was the reflection of the love which flashed in his.

"You must talk to my mother about it," she said after a minute's silence.
"You see, I am still under age, and she and Uncle Henry my guardian must
consent before we are actually betrothed."

"I will see them at once," said Zaluski, eagerly.

"You could see my mother," she replied. "But Uncle Henry is still in
Sweden and will not be in town for another week."

"Must we really wait so long!" sighed Sigismund impatiently.

She laughed at him gently.

"A whole week! But then we are sure of each other. I do not think we
ought to grumble."

"But perhaps they may think that a merchant is no fitting match for you,"
he suggested. "I am nothing but a plain merchant, and my I people have
been in the same business for four generations. As far as wealth goes I
might perhaps satisfy your people, but for the rest I am but a prosaic
fellow, with neither noble blood, nor the brain of a genius, nor anything
out of the common."

"It will be enough for my mother that we love each other," she said
shyly.

"And your uncle?"

"It will be enough for him that you are upright and honourable--enough
that you are yourself, Sigismund."

They were sitting now in a little sheltered recess clipped out of the yew-
trees. When that softly spoken "Sigismund" fell from her lips, Zaluski
caught her in his arms and kissed her again and again.

"I have led such a lonely life," he said after a few minutes, during
which their talk had baffled my comprehension. "All my people died while
I was still a boy."

"Then who brought you up?" she inquired.

"An uncle of mine, the head of our firm in St. Petersburg. He was very
good to me, but he had children of his own, and of course I could not be
to him as one of them. I have had many friends and much kindness shown
to me, but love!--none till to-day."