dged in my own heart to be
unworthy of the slightest sacrifice--though the ghost of my former
reverence and love so hung about me still, that I could not bear to hear
her name aspersed by others--I merely walked to the window, and having
spent a few seconds in vengibly biting my lips and sternly repressing the
passionate heavings of my chest, I observed to Miss Wilson, that I could
see nothing of her brother, and added that, as my time was precious, it
would perhaps be better to call again to-morrow, at some time when I
should be sure to find him at home.

'Oh, no!' said she; 'if you wait a minute, he will be sure to come; for
he has business at L--' (that was our market-town), 'and will require a
little refreshment before he goes.'

I submitted accordingly, with the best grace I could; and, happily, I had
not long to wait. Mr. Wilson soon arrived, and, indisposed for business
as I was at that moment, and little as I cared for the field or its
owner, I forced my attention to the matter in hand, with very creditable
determination, and quickly concluded the bargain--perhaps more to the
thrifty farmer's satisfaction than he cared to acknowledge. Then,
leaving him to the discussion of his substantial 'refreshment,' I gladly
quitted the house, and went to look after my reapers.

Leaving them busy at work on the side of the valley, I ascended the hill,
intending to visit a corn-field in the more elevated regions, and see
when it would be ripe for the sickle. But I did not visit it that day;
for, as I approached, I beheld, at no great distance, Mrs. Graham and her
son coming down in the opposite direction. They saw me; and Arthur
already was running to meet me; but I immediately turned back and walked
steadily homeward; for I had fully determined never to encounter his
mother again; and regardless of the shrill voice in my ear, calling upon
me to 'wait a moment,' I pursued the even tenor of my way; and he soon
relinquished the pursuit as hopeless, or was called away by his mother.
At all events, when I looked back, five minutes after, not a trace of
either was to be seen.

This incident agitated and disturbed me most unaccountably--unless you
would account for it by saying that Cupid's arrows not only had been too
sharp for me, but they were barbed and deeply rooted, and I had not yet
been able to wrench them from my heart. However that be, I was rendered
doubly miserable for the remainder of the day.

CHAPTER