than a romp in the hay-fields; and we never
had more fun than in autumn, when I had to
climb the large trees in the orchard, and
shake down the ripe fruit into the quilt held
below to catch it as it fell. Then, as her
slave, I had of course her garden to keep in
order, and her chickens to look after; with
numberless errands into Heatherslack for
cotton, or worsted, or what not. It was my
dearest delight to obey her every whim; and
when she tapped me on the head with her
thimble, and said "Good slave!" my happiness
was complete.

With Grace it was impossible ever to
become so familiar. She was so occupied with
her domestic duties, and her thought for
others, that she seemed to have no time left
to think of pleasure for herself. Her real
influence was never perceived till her sister
was beset by some little trouble, or her father
knew not how to decide in some difficult
matter. At such times they always resorted
to her; and her sympathy and council were
never offered in vain.

I grew fonder of Letty day by day. I
never asked myself what was the feeling with
which I regarded her. It was sufficient for
me that I lived beneath the same roof with
her, that I saw her daily, that I was of service
to her in many ways, and that she was
ever frank and affectionate toward me. I
asked no more than this: I was content. I
did not know, circumstances had never
brought the knowledge before me, the depth
of affection that existed for her in my heart;
nor what a great passion I should have to do
battle with, should the bond between us ever
be broken. The knowledge came upon me
one day, unawares.

I had been two years at the Grange, and
was eighteen years old. Letty and I were
invited out one day to a wedding in Heatherslack,
a wedding-party in the old-fashioned
style, to which all the relations and intimate
friends of the newly-married couple were
invited; and at which all sorts of old country
games were enacted; the bride and bridegroom
taking part therein. It was midnight
before we thought of departing. The bride
lighted us to the door, and after bidding us
good night, added playfully to Letty: "I
hope when your turn comes—and I suppose
it won't be long before you change your
name—you'll not forget to invite us to your
wedding."

"I don't know what you mean," said Letty,
coldly.

"O, no offence," replied the bride.
"Though, if all be true that's reported in
Heatherslack, it won't be long before you
and Thurston there, are married."

"It's a pity that the people in Heatherslack
have nothing better to do than set about
reports that will never come true—no, never!"

My lady was all a-fire now, and moved off
homeward like an offended queen. This
dialogue, brief as it was, awakened in my heart
new hopes and aspirations unknown before.
Why should not report speak truly for once?
Such a consummation, while seeming but the
natural result of our long intimacy, would
add the crowning happiness to my life.
Nothing venture, nothing have. I would
put the question to the proof that very night
—then. She was walking on, a few paces
from me, somewhat softened now, as it
appeared to me; gazing dreamily at the moon
as she walked.

"And what if report speaks truly in this
case, Letty," said I; "would there be
anything so terrible in such a fate?"

"Such a thing can never be, Thurston," she
said. "Let me tell you so, once for all. See,
here is Grace come to meet us."

From that time our intercourse was marked
by a feeling of restraint; springing, in the
first instance, from Letty alone, but soon
influencing me also; although I strove hard at
first to win her back to the gay, frank life of
yore. From the day she read in my eyes
that I loved her, she grew shy and reserved
toward me; no longer taking lone rambles
with me into the woods, or appearing to
care for me; but rather avoiding me, or so
it seemed. I was no longer her slave; and
when she wished me to do anything for her,
instead of a command, a timid "If you please,
Thurston," prefaced the expression of her
desires.

Autumn and winter passed away, and
spring was come once more, when, about the
middle of May, Mark sent me to attend a fair
in a distant town, in charge of a number of
sheep for sale. I was away four days. It
was evening when I approached the Grange
on my return. Leaving the highroad, I struck
into a footpath across the fields, so as to save
about half a mile in the distance, and reach
home sooner. The path wound along by the
side of the river, before turning off at a right
angle for the farm. Passing through a gap in
a high hedge that was just bursting into bloom,
I came suddenly upon two individuals, one at
least, of whom seemed as surprised as myself
at the unexpected meeting. I have the picture
before me now, as distinctly as I saw it
at that moment, so strongly did it impress
itself on my memory in the instant that I
stood, silent and surprised, to note it. On
the top of a grassy bank that sloped gently
down for a few feet till it met the river, stood
Letty, holding in one hand her bonnet by its
strings of blue ribbon, and in the other, a
small gilt-edged book, shut up, her forefinger
between the leaves. She stood in the light of
sunset, basked in its glory; her unbound curls
gleaming rich and lustrous, as though her hair
were powdered with gold dust. A startled
look, half surprise, half shame, flushed up
from her bosom to her forehead as she glanced
round and saw me. This was the only sign
of recognition she gave me. She turned at
once, so that I could not see her face; and
opening her book, began to read.