ing
my own. I had a right to expect, after the way in which she then treated
me, that if _my_ cheeks burned and my ears tingled, and my heart beat
faster, at the remembrance of that sweet meeting, hers would at least
betray some consciousness of the fact. But not a fleeting tremor shook
her little hand, not a shade of color deepened the rose of her round
cheek, not a passing emotion of bashfulness weighed down her curly
eyelashes. She was serenely self-possessed, superbly cool, and attentive
to the obnoxious Hayes, in proportion as she was disregardful of me.

Burning with suppressed indignation, I accepted her careless invitation,
and followed the precious pair into the shrubbery, there being no other
way of obtaining the explanation I was determined to have this morning.
I had often seen such demonstrations before, and borne them with
comparative patience, knowing how well worth the trouble of winning, how
true and tender after all, if only it could be reached under these
disguising caprices, was the wayward little heart that had tested my
love and tried my temper all these years. From her very cradle she
provoked me, from the frills of her baby cap she mocked me; and, grown
into the ranks of little girlhood, systematically aggravated me by
artful preference of all the little boys I most hated, for whose infant
attentions she unceremoniously deserted my elder claim and assured
protection. And yet, in all her childish troubles, from torn frocks to
Latin lexicons, she flew to me for aid, counsel, sympathy, and
protection, repenting of all her sins against me, and walking in a
straight path again, till between her sweet eyes, and her pretty
confessions, her helpless reliance, and gentle ministering to my vanity,
she had regained a larger place than before in my alienated heart, and
could afford to play the very deuce with it again.

'Twenty years of this sort of thing must have settled the question one
way or another,' I argued; 'there is no use in my putting up any longer
with this bewitched town, and my empty slate, Phil's nonsense, and Tom
Hayes's impudence, my aunt's sermons, and my uncle's lectures, and Miss
Dora's caprices; she has either flirted with me, or she has loved me
from her cradle.' I have sometimes thought the latter, but I greatly
suspect it is the former. Grand query, which is it? and I resolved to
know to-day.

It was in vain, however, that I tried during the shady walk to gain a
moment's conversat