g
beautiful form, the grace, the majesty, the modesty of her girlhood.

"'My pupil,' I said.

"'My master,' was the low answer.

"'I have a thing to tell you.'

"She waited with declined brow and ringlets drooped.

"'I have to tell you that for four years you have been growing into
your tutor's heart, and that you are rooted there now. I have to declare
that you have bewitched me, in spite of sense, and experience, and
difference of station and estate. You have so looked, and spoken, and
moved; so shown me your faults and your virtues--beauties rather, they
are hardly so stern as virtues--that I love you--love you with my life
and strength. It is out now.'

"She sought what to say, but could not find a word. She tried to rally,
but vainly. I passionately repeated that I loved her.

"'Well, Mr. Moore, what then?' was the answer I got, uttered in a tone
that would have been petulant if it had not faltered.

"'Have you nothing to say to me? Have you no love for me?'

"'A little bit.'

"'I am not to be tortured. I will not even play at present.'

"'I don't want to play; I want to go.'

"'I wonder you dare speak of going at this moment. _You_ go! What! with
my heart in your hand, to lay it on your toilet and pierce it with your
pins? From my presence you do not stir, out of my reach you do not
stray, till I receive a hostage--pledge for pledge--your heart for
mine.'

"'The thing you want is mislaid--lost some time since. Let me go and
seek it.'

"'Declare that it is where your keys often are--in my possession.'

"'You ought to know. And where are my keys, Mr. Moore? Indeed and truly
I have lost them again; and Mrs. Gill wants some money, and I have none,
except this sixpence.'

"She took the coin out of her apron pocket, and showed it in her palm. I
could have trifled with her, but it would not do; life and death were at
stake. Mastering at once the sixpence and the hand that held it, I
demanded, 'Am I to die without you, or am I to live for you?'

"'Do as you please. Far be it from me to dictate your choice.'

"'You shall tell me with your own lips whether you doom me to exile or
call me to hope.'

"'Go; I can bear to be left.'

"'Perhaps I too _can_ bear to leave you. But reply, Shirley, my pupil,
my sovereign--reply.'

"'Die without me if you will; live for me if you dare.'

"'I am not afraid of you, my leopardess. I _dare_ live for and with you,
from this hour till my death. Now, then, I have