isite face, kisses her gently.

"Never," he says, emphatically. "When you go home, tell Mr. Redmond
all about it; and to-morrow Clarissa will go down to the vicarage and
bring you up to Gowran, where you must stay until we are married."

"I shall like that," says Georgie, with a sweet smile. "But, Mr.
Branscombe----"

"Who on earth is Mr. Branscombe?" asks Dorian. "Don't you know my name
yet?"

"I do. I think it is almost the prettiest name I ever heard,--Dorian."

"_Darling!_ I never thought it a nice name before; but now that you
have called me by it, I can feel its beauty. But I dare say if I had
been christened Jehoshaphat I should, under these circumstances, think
just the same. Well, you were going to say----?"

"Perhaps Clarissa will not care to have me for so long."

"So long? How long? By the by, perhaps she wouldn't; so I suppose we
had better be married as soon as ever we can."

"I haven't got any clothes," says Miss Broughton; at which they both
laugh gayly, as though it were the merriest jest in the world.

"You terrify me," says Branscombe. "Let me beg you will rectify such a
mistake as soon as possible."

"We have been here a long time," says Georgie, suddenly, glancing at
the sun, that is almost sinking out of sight behind the solemn firs.

"It hasn't been ten minutes," says Mr. Branscombe, conviction making
his tone brilliant.

"Oh, nonsense!" says Georgie. "I am sure it must be quite two hours
since you came."

As it has been barely one, this is rather difficult to endure with
equanimity.

"How long you have found it!" he says, with some regret. He is
honestly pained, and his eyes grow darker. Looking at him, she sees
what she has done, and, though ignorant of the very meaning of the
word "love," knows that she has hurt him more than he cares to
confess.

"I have been happy,--quite happy," she says, sweetly, coloring warmly
as she says it. "You must not think I have found the time you have
been with me dull or dreary. Only, I am afraid Clarissa will miss me."

"I should think any one would miss you," says Dorian, impulsively. He
smiles at her as he speaks; but there is a curious mingling of sadness
and longing and uncertainty in his face. Laying one arm round her,
with his other hand he draws her head down on his breast.

"At least, before we go, you will kiss me once," he says,
entreatingly. All the gayety--the gladness--has gone from his voice;
only the deep and lasting love rem