her affections and their strength; but his impetuosity
checked her in her speech.

"I know what you would say, and my heart thanks you for it, as if its
very life depended upon the utterance. You would tell me to have no such
fear; but the fear is a portion of myself now--it is my heart itself.
Hear me then, Edith--_my_ Edith, if you will so let me call you."

Her hand rested on his assuringly, with a gentle pressure. He
continued--

"Hitherto we have lived with each other, only with each other--we have
loved each other, and I have almost only loved you. Neither of us, Edith
(may I believe it of you?) has known much of any other affection. But
how long is this to last? that book--where is it? but no matter--it has
taught me that, now, when a few months will carry us both into the
world, it is improper that our relationship should continue. It says we
can not be the children any longer that we have been--that such
intercourse--I can now perceive why--would be injurious to you. Do you
understand me?"

The blush of a first consciousness came over the cheek of the maiden, as
she withdrew her hand from his passionate clasp.

"Ah! I see already," he exclaimed: "you too have learned the lesson. And
is it thus--and we are to be happy no longer!"

"Ralph!"--she endeavored to speak, but could proceed no further, and her
hand was again, silently and without objection, taken into the grasp of
his. The youth, after a brief pause, resumed, in a tone, which though it
had lost much of its impetuousness, was yet full of stern resolution.

"Hear me, Edith--but a word--a single word. I love you, believe me, dear
Edith, I love you."

The effect of this declaration was scarcely such as the youth desired.
She had been so much accustomed to his warm admiration, indicated
frequently in phrases such as these, that it had the effect of restoring
to her much of her self-possession, of which the nature of the previous
dialogue had a little deprived her; and, in the most natural manner in
the world, she replied--perhaps too, we may add, with much of the
artlessness of art--

"Why, to be sure you do, Cousin Ralph--it would be something strange
indeed if you did not. I believe you love me, as I am sure you can never
doubt how much you are beloved by me!"

"_Cousin_ Ralph--_Cousin_ Ralph!" exclaimed the youth with something of
his former impetuosity, emphasizing ironically as he spoke the
unfortunate family epithet--"Ah, Edith, you _will