hilian. It was the proper thing to be fortified
with the elders' consent. Of course, he would not marry in some time
yet, but if he could be her "company" and speak presently--they had been
such friends.

Chilian studied the honest young fellow, whose face was in a glow of
hope. So young to dream of love and plan for the future!

"You are both too young;" and his voice had a bit of sharpness in it.
"Cynthia is not thinking of such things."

"But one _can_ think of them. They begin somehow and go into your very
life. I believe I've loved her a long while."

"I think neither of you really know what love is. No, I cannot consent
to it. I want her to go on having a good free time without any anxiety.
I have some right to her, being her guardian."

"But--I will wait--I didn't mean to ask her immediately."

"We are going on a journey presently. I cannot have her disturbed with
this. No, your attention must be devoted to business for the next two
years."

He drew a long breath. "But you don't mean I must break
off--everything?" and there was an unsteadiness in his voice.

"Oh, no. Not if you can keep to the old friendliness."

Then Chilian Leverett dropped into his easy-chair and thought. The child
had grown very dear to him, she was a gift from her father. A
tumultuous, uncomprehended pain wrenched his very soul. To live without
her--to miss her everywhere! To have lonely days, longer lonely evenings
when the dreariness of winter set in. And yet she had a right to the
sweet, rich draught of love. But she did not need it amid all the
pleasures of youth. Let her have two or three years, even if it was
blissful thoughtlessness. But he must put her on her guard. A young
fellow soon changed his mind. The old couplet sang itself in his brain:

"If she be not fair for me,
What care I how fair she be?"

Did he get over his early love and forget? We all say, "But ours was
different."

How to find the right moment? Ben did not come over. She was very busy
with this friend and that, youth finds so _many_ interests. But one
evening, when they were sitting on the porch in the moonlight, the young
fellow walked slowly along, glanced at them, halted.

She flew down to the gate.

"Oh, Ben, what has happened?" she cried, the most bewitching anxiety in
her face. "Why, you have not been in--for weeks."

"Not quite two weeks." Had it seemed so long to her? To him it had been
months.

"Oh, come in. Cousin