himself, and started for the mansion of Mr. Bates, trembling as he went,
for the result of the communication he was about to make.

Once on the way he paused, for the thought had occurred to him that he
would write to them; then reproaching himself for his weakness and
timidity, he started on again with renewed determination.

"I'll see her myself," he soliloquized. "I'll tell little Birdie all, and
know my fate from her own lips. If I must give her up, I'll know the worst
from her."

When Clarence was admitted, he would not permit himself to be announced,
but walked tiptoe upstairs and gently opening the drawing-room door,
entered the room. Standing by the piano, turning over the leaves of some
music, and merrily humming an air, was a young girl of extremely _petite_
and delicate form. Her complexion was strikingly fair; and the rich curls
of dark auburn that fell in clusters on her shoulders, made it still more
dazzling by the contrast presented. Her eyes were grey, inclining to black;
her features small, and not over-remarkable for their symmetry, yet by no
means disproportionate. There was the sweetest of dimples on her small
round chin, and her throat white and clear as the finest marble. The
expression of her face was extremely childlike; she seemed more like a
schoolgirl than a young woman of eighteen on the eve of marriage. There was
something deliriously airy and fairylike in her motions, and as she
slightly moved her feet in time to the music she was humming, her thin blue
dress floated about her, and undulated in harmony with her graceful
motions.

After gazing at her for a few moments, Clarence called gently, "Little
Birdie." She gave a timid joyous little cry of surprise and pleasure, and
fluttered into his arms.

"Oh, Clary, love, how you startled me! I did not dream there was any one in
the room. It was so naughty in you," said she, childishly, as he pushed
back the curls from her face and kissed her. "When did you arrive?"

"Only an hour ago," he answered.

"And you came here at once? Ah, that was so lover-like and kind," she
rejoined, smiling.

"You look like a sylph to-night, Anne," said he, as she danced about him.
"Ah," he continued, after regarding her for a few seconds with a look of
intense admiration, "you want to rivet my chains the tighter,--you look
most bewitching. Why are you so much dressed to-night?--jewels, sash, and
satin slippers," he continued; "are you going out?"

"No, Cla