eonard said; "please, wait one minute."

He stepped down to the bank of the stream, washed his hands carefully
in the clear water, and came back to her, holding them, dripping, at his
sides.

"I am very ignorant," he then continued,--"ignorant and rough. You are
good, to want to send me something, but I want nothing. Miss Bartram,
you are very good."

He paused; but with all her tact and social experience, she did not know
what to say.

"Would you do one little thing for me--not for the ferns, that was
nothing--no more than you do, without thinking, for all your friends?"

"Oh, surely!" she said.

"Might I--might I--now,--there'll be no chance tomorrow,--shake hands
with you?"

The words seemed to be forced from him by the strength of a fierce will.
Both stopped, involuntarily.

"It's quite dry, you see," said he, offering his hand. Her own sank upon
it, palm to palm, and the fingers softly closed over each, as if with
the passion and sweetness of a kiss. Miss Bartram's heart came to her
eyes, and read, at last, the question in Leonard's. It was: "I as man,
and you, as woman, are equals; will you give me time to reach you?" What
her eyes replied she knew not. A mighty influence drew her on, and a
mighty doubt and dread restrained her. One said: "Here is your lover,
your husband, your cherished partner, left by fate below your station,
yet whom you may lift to your side! Shall man, alone, crown the humble
maiden,--stoop to love, and, loving, ennoble? Be you the queen, and love
him by the royal right of womanhood!" But the other sternly whispered:
"How shall your fine and delicate fibres be knit into this coarse
texture? Ignorance, which years cannot wash away,--low instincts,
what do YOU know?--all the servile side of life, which is turned from
you,--what madness to choose this, because some current of earthly
magnetism sets along your nerves? He loves you: what of that? You are
a higher being to him, and he stupidly adores you. Think,--yes, DARE to
think of all the prosaic realities of life, shared with him!"

Miss Bartram felt herself growing dizzy. Behind the impulse which bade
her cast herself upon his breast swept such a hot wave of shame and pain
that her face burned, and she dropped her eyelids to shut out the
sight of his face. But, for one endless second, the sweeter voice spoke
through their clasped hands. Perhaps he kissed hers; she did not know;
she only heard herself murmur:

"Good-bye! Pray go