h a lifetime; and did I not day by day have
that growing feeling round my heart, which thrilled me through and
through and told me that my little darling was beginning to care for me?

Did she not absolutely shed tears the night we stole away from the
concert and sat hand in hand under one of the boats, when I whispered
just one little sentence; that I loved her? Ah me! shall I ever forget
those beautiful Southern nights, with the stars shining like great
diamonds above us--nights made for love?

My cousin Ethel at first did not by any means appreciate the turn my
affections had recently taken; she made several pointed and rather
sarcastic remarks about it, having in her mind, I presume, the
recollection of our little meetings in the long corridors of dear old
Bannington.

"You seem very much taken up with that Miss d'Alta," she remarked one
day. "I thought you did not like foreign girls. I don't suppose she
can ride or shoot a bit."

"I don't want her to, Ethel," I replied tersely; "there are no
facilities for either amusement on board ship."

She smiled, then bit her lips to check it; she wanted to be dignified
and couldn't. She descended to mere abuse.

"You were always a fool about girls, Bill," she continued. "Any girl
could twist you round her finger. Do you remember Mary Greenway?"

Now the recollection of that young lady was peculiarly galling to me at
the moment. After expressing deep love for me--I was eighteen--for
nearly six months, she eloped with one of her father's grooms!

"Please don't mention that young lady," I implored; "it makes me feel
ill. I believe at the present moment she teaches young ladies in her
husband's riding-school."

Ethel laughed heartily.

"She might do worse," she replied. "I think she is rather a plucky
girl."

"What, to run away with a groom?" I suggested.

"No," she snapped; "to work for her living."

We came to our port of debarkation, Monte Video, at last. It seemed
like the end of a holiday to go ashore, and take to the dusty train,
luxurious though it was, but _now_ I had the precious casket in my
care, and the anxiety was almost too much for me.

"Look here," said St. Nivel, when we had been in the train about an
hour, "you are looking pretty sick over that precious packet, why don't
you let me take care of it for you?"

I tapped nervously at the trousers pocket in which I was carrying it.

"I hardly like to let it go out of my own charge," I an