life, so nobly placed to be;
I would as soon expect to see the sun
Fall like a dead king from his height sublime,
His glory stricken from the throne of time,
As thee unworth the worship thou hast won."

Love found Dainty sitting in a large double swing out in the grounds,
gently swaying to and fro, and with the fragment of a little song on her
rosy lips as she waited for him to join her there.

As the beautiful face turned confidingly to his, Love knew that the
sudden love-light in her eyes was reflected from her heart, and that he
could not possibly have a rival in her affections.

When Dainty saw the pale, agitated face of her lover, she started in
alarm, and the sweet song died on her lips as she exclaimed:

"Oh, Love, what is the matter? Are you ill, that you look so frightfully
pale?"

Love took the swinging seat opposite her, and with an effort at
calmness, answered:

"Do not be frightened, darling. I am not ill. Only very, very angry."

"With me?" she faltered, in dismay.

"Certainly not, dear little one!" he cried, tenderly; continuing with
sudden vehemence: "I am angry with the schemers who are trying to part
us from each other, darling."

"You mean Olive and Ela," she cried, quickly, the rose-bloom fading from
her dimpled cheeks and her sweet mouth trembling as she sighed: "Oh, I
knew that we were too happy for it to last and that something would
happen! There was a shadow on my heart. That was why I was singing, as
you came up:

"'All that's bright must fade,
The brightest, still the fleetest,
All that's sweet was made
To be lost when sweetest;
Flowers that bloom and fall,
Buds that blight in springing,
These, alas! are types of all
To which our hearts are clinging.'"

"What a little pessimist you are, Dainty! Always turning your face to
the darker side of life!" cried her lover, somewhat impatiently; adding:
"Nothing shall happen to part us, my own little love; though if your
aunt and cousins had their way, we would never see each other's face
again. Listen, Dainty. They have told me falsehoods about you--that you
had left a lover in Richmond; that he has followed you here, and has
been sending you notes to meet him in the grounds."

"Shameful!" she cried, indignantly. "How could they be so wicked!"

"And," continued her lover, crumpling the letters into a ball and
throwing them into her lap, "they gave me these notes to read,