other's
presence. All was fresh around them, familiar and yet new, tinged with
the beauty of their new-found happiness.

"Did you not know it before?" he asked. "I did not dare to think it."

"What a mask of ice I must wear! How could a man feel as I have done
without showing it? Your sister at least knew."

"Ida!"

"It was last night. She began to praise you, I said what I felt, and
then in an instant it was all out."

"But what could you--what could you see in me? Oh, I do pray that you
may not repent it!" The gentle heart was ruffled amid its joy by the
thought of its own unworthiness.

"Repent it! I feel that I am a saved man. You do not know how degrading
this city life is, how debasing, and yet how absorbing. Money for ever
clinks in your ear. You can think of nothing else. From the bottom of my
heart I hate it, and yet how can I draw back without bringing grief
to my dear old father? There was but one way in which I could defy the
taint, and that was by having a home influence so pure and so high that
it may brace me up against all that draws me down. I have felt that
influence already. I know that when I am talking to you I am a better
man. It is you who, must go with me through life, or I must walk for
ever alone."

"Oh, Harold, I am so happy!" Still they wandered amid the darkening
shadows, while one by one the stars peeped out in the blue black sky
above them. At last a chill night wind blew up from the east, and
brought them back to the realities of life.

"You must go in. You will be cold."

"My father will wonder where I am. Shall I say anything to him?"

"If you like, my darling. Or I will in the morning. I must tell my
mother to-night. I know how delighted she will be."

"I do hope so."

"Let me take you up the garden path. It is so dark. Your lamp is not lit
yet. There is the window. Till to-morrow, then, dearest."

"Till to-morrow, Harold."

"My own darling!" He stooped, and their lips met for the first time.
Then, as she pushed open the folding windows she heard his quick, firm
step as it passed down the graveled path. A lamp was lit as she entered
the room, and there was Ida, dancing about like a mischievous little
fairy in front of her.

"And have you anything to tell me?" she asked, with a solemn face. Then,
suddenly throwing her arms round her sister's neck, "Oh, you dear, dear
old Clara! I am so pleased. I am so pleased."

CHAPTER VII. VENIT TANDEM FELICITAS.

It wa