eet his own.

"Look up, Aileen, my own! Is it to be as I wish? Will you leave this
place with me to-morrow night?"

The girl drew back with a start of surprise. "You--you surely are not
going to-morrow, Lucian," and the gentle voice trembled.

"I must, little one--have just received a letter calling me back to
the city. Your sweet face has already kept me here too long. But I
shall take it back with me, shall I not, love; and never lose it
more?"

The girl was silent. She loved him only too well, and yet this
peremptory wooing and sudden departure struck upon her naturally
sensitive nerves as something harsh and unpleasant. She would not
leave behind much love, would be missed by few friends, and yet--to
leave her home once was to leave it forever, and it was home, after
all. She looked at the man before her, and a something, her good angel
perhaps, seemed, almost against herself, to move her to rebel.

"Why must I go like a runaway, Lucian? I can't bear to bid you go, and
yet, if you must, why not leave me for a little time? My father will
never consent, I well know, but let me tell him, and then go openly,
after he has had time to become familiar with the idea."

"After he has had time to lock you up! Recollect, you are not of age,
Aileen. After he has had time to force you into a marriage with your
broken-backed old lover. After he has had time to poison your mind
against me----"

"Lucian! as if he could do _that_; _he_, indeed!" The girl laughed
scornfully.

[Illustration: "She nestled in his arms with perfect
trustfulness."--page 11.]

It is not difficult to guess how this affair would have terminated.
The man was handsome and persuasive; the girl trustful, loving, and,
save for him, so she thought, almost friendless.

But an unexpected event interrupted the eloquence flowing from the
lips of Lucian Davlin, and set the mind of the girl free to think one
moment, unbiased by the mesmeric power of his mind, eye, and touch.

They were standing in a little grove, near which ran the footpath
leading into the village of Bellair. Suddenly, as if he had dropped
from one of the wide spreading trees, a very fat boy, with a shining
face and a general air of "knowingness," appeared before them.

"I beg pardin, sir," proclaimed he, "but as you told me if a
tellergram come for you, to fetch it here, so I did."

And staring at Madeline the while, he produced a yellow envelope from
some interior region, and present