a serious quarrel, on a very serious question. I
thought, of course, that all young men, at least, regard these things
in the same way. Well, he did not. I have no need to say more; _he_ did
not, and consequently nothing could come of it. At all events, I deemed
that the man who could not face an adversary had no right to brave a
rival, and so I intimated to him. For the second time he differed with
me, and dared in my own presence to prosecute attentions which I had
ordered him to abandon. This was bad enough, but there was worse to
come, for, on my return home from this, I found a letter from him in the
most abject terms; asking my pardon--for what?--for my having insulted
him, and begging me, in words of shameful humility, to let him follow up
his courtship, and, if he could, secure the hand of your sister, Now she
might, or might not accept my offer. I am not coxcomb enough to suppose
I must succeed simply because I wish success; but, putting myself
completely out of the question, could I suffer a girl I deemed worthy of
my love, and whom I desired to make my wife, to fall to the lot of one
so base as this? I ask you, was there any other course open to me than
to show her the letter? Perhaps it was rash; perhaps I ought to have
shown it first of all to Miss Grainger. I can't decide this point. It
is too subtle for me. I only know that what I did I should do again, no
matter what the consequences might be."

"And this letter, has she got it still?" asked Milly.

"No, neither she nor any other will ever read it now. I have torn it to
atoms. The wind has carried the last fragment at this moment over the
lake."

"Oh dear; what misery all this is," cried the girl in an accent of deep
affliction. "If you knew how she is attached--" Then suddenly checking
the harsh indiscretion of her words, she added, "I am sure you did all
for the best, Mr. Calvert I must go back now. You'll come and see us, or
perhaps you'll let me write to you, to-morrow."

"I have to say good-bye, now," said he, sadly. "I may see you all again
within a week. It may be this is a good-bye for ever."

He kissed her hand as he spoke, and turned to the lake, where his boat
was lying.

"How amazed she'll be to hear that she saw a letter--read it--held it in
her hands," muttered he, "but I'll stake my life she'll never doubt the
fact when it is told to her by those who believe it."

"You seem to be in rare spirits," said Barnard when Calvert returned