bite," says the girl, softly. "There's other things
dangerous besides biting, I should think. Aren't you very witty? Yes,
and sarcastic, and clever, and always laughing at people? Haven't you
a coaxing tongue? If you was to look at me in that kind of way, I don't
know what would come to me. Was your brother like you, as I was to have
married? Was he as clever and witty as you? I have heard he was like
you: but he hadn't your coaxing tongue. Heigho! 'Tis well you are
engaged, Master George, that is all. Do you think if you had seen me
first, you would have liked Miss Theo best?"

"They say marriages were made in Heaven, my dear, and let us trust that
mine has been arranged there," says George.

"I suppose there was no such thing never known, as a man having two
sweethearts?" asks the artless little maiden. "Guess it's a pity. O me!
What nonsense I'm a-talking; there now! I'm like the little girl who
cried for the moon; and I can't have it. 'Tis too high for me--too
high and splendid and shining: can't reach up to it nohow. Well, what
a foolish, wayward, little spoilt thing I am now! But one thing you
promise.-on your word and your honour, now, Mr. George?"

"And what is that?"

"That you won't tell Miss Theo, else she'll hate me."

"Why should she hate you?"

"Because I hate her, and wish she was dead!" breaks out the young lady.
And the eyes that were looking so gentle and lachrymose but now, flame
with sudden wrath, and her cheeks flush up. "For shame!" she adds, after
a pause. "I'm a little fool to speak! But whatever is in my heart must
come out. I am a girl of the woods, I am. I was bred where the sun is
hotter than in this foggy climate. And I am not like your cold English
girls; who, before they speak, or think, or feel, must wait for mamma to
give leave. There, there! I may be a little fool for saying what I have.
I know you'll go and tell Miss Lambert. Well, do!"

But, as we have said, George didn't tell Miss Lambert. Even from the
beloved person there must be some things kept secret; even to himself,
perhaps, he did not quite acknowledge what was the meaning of the little
girl's confession; or, if he acknowledged it, did not act on it; except
in so far as this, perhaps, that my gentleman, in Miss Lydia's presence,
was particularly courteous and tender; and in her absence thought of her
very kindly, and always with a certain pleasure. It were hard, indeed,
if a man might not repay by a little kindness and