pressure of heart to heart, in the clasp of
strong and intense love, was more eloquent
than words. The disappointing past was
forgotten: they felt but the ecstacy of reunion.
Whatever trials they had undergone, that
cruellest trial of all—mistrust—had never
poisoned their affection, never even in dreams
disturbed their faith each in the other.  Let what
would come, their mutual love could not even
end in this life, for they enjoyed the happiness
of believing that a pure and earnest earth-love
will be still more purified and perfected in
eternity.

Ronald was the first to speak. He raised her
face from his bosom, and gazed into the depths
of her eyes, as if he would read her very soul
and so he did.

"My own, my very own!" he said. " Incapable
of change so faithful and so true to a
man of ruined fortunes—"

"But spotless name," she answered, proudly.
"And oh, Ronald! life is too short to cherish,
even for a moment, your plan of exile to create
another fortune. Now, I am despotic; you
shall not leave England; it will be a little—
only a little longer. I shall be privileged to
prove my love, as few women can, by giving
you back, as it were, the fortune which no
forethought of yours could have preserved."

"But, Cecil; a man to be obliged to a
woman—!"

Cecil placed her hand on his lips.

"There is no man or woman in the case," she
said; "it is simply love for love. Long ago,
when you were rich, and I had nothing but
a few paltry pounds, and there was reason
to believe that poor Gerald, so handsome and
distinguished as he was, a hero, a man of fashion
and fortune, courted and followed by women
whose adulation was sufficient to turn a stronger
brain, would have married, and that other heirs
would have claimed Middleton Lea; it was then
you distinguished your Cecil from among women
more rich, more beautiful, more accomplished.
It was then you gave her your heart, it was
then you offered her your hand—"

"And," interrupted Ronald Chester, "it was
then that your brother's cruel selfishness
interfered to prevent our union. You were necessary
to his comfort, and he blighted our loves
and lives. He treated me with insolence,
because my father's wealth had been earned and
our estate was not ancestral—he scoffed—"

"Peace, peace," murmured Cecil. "Time
and his present state must tide over such
memories. I shall soon be all your own, though
not even the richness of that blessing can stifle
the desire that he may be spared a little longer,
and not pass into his Lord's presence with
an unregenerate nature. I weary Heaven with
prayers that his heart may soften. Oh! you
don't know the terror of those awful night
watches. When he sends the nurse away,
and—but I must not stain with sorrow the
few moments that are our own. We shall be
so happy, Ronald, so happy!"

"My own! I am torn between my desire to
be with you more than ever now, when the
spring time—almost the summer—of our youth
is past, and my aching want is to win back in
another country what I have lost in this."

"Oh man, proud man!" interrupted Cecil,
"who would put aside this commonwealth of
love; who would live and compel me to live,
in solitude, our hearts withered by hope
deferred!

"Cecil!" exclaimed her lover, "if you had
but married me when we first told each other of
our love."

"Let the past be past," she said; "let us
think, after the darkness is gone, of the
sunshine that must be ours."

I would not, if I could, chronicle the
murmured and spoken words that still more
sanctified their meeting. The disbelief in long
abiding and unselfish attachment is one of the
bad signs of our time. There are many, well
stricken in the conventionalities of love à la
mode, who hold in worldly contempt, even if
they do not quite discredit, the entire oneness
in spirit and in truth which renders life to those
who are devoted each to the other, alike, amid
storm and sunshine, an unspeakable and
absolute joy. Such love is utterly incapable of
change, and preserves the richly-dowered hearts
in all the greenery of youth, even when their
brows are crowned by the snows of age.

Their happiness was broken in upon by South,
who exclaimed, "The master, miss, wants you;
the restless fit is on him worse than ever; he
calls for you, miss, and the nurse. I think you
must let me run for the doctor."

"The drops, South," said Cecil!

"He threw the bottle at me, when I
mentioned them, I never saw him so violent. If
you will go up, miss, I will find the doctor!"

"You must not leave Miss Middleton alone,
South," said Mr. Chester. "Tell me the doctor's
address. I will send him."

CHAPTER III.

AND so they parted. She to listen to
reproach and abuse, every word she uttered in her
patient tenderness but adding fuel to the flame
—until another paroxysm of that fearful cough
knelled through the room, and he sank upon
his cushions helpless and speechless. After
such outbreaks, he was silent from exhaustion.
At last, without raising his hand, he beckoned
her to him with his long lean finger. She
knelt by his side, bending to catch his words.

"Were you out?"

"No."

"Some one below then?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

She had never told an untruth to him or to
any one else in her life: her cheek flushed and
he saw it.

"Chester?" he cried between his strong
white teeth. "Chester! And he dares to come
here! To take stock, I suppose. But by—"

And he swore an oath, that made Cecil
tremble.