."

She did pity him, her eyes betrayed that, and her voice was very kind,
as she said,--

"Pardon my doubts. I trust you now, and wish with all my heart that
it was possible to make you happy. You know it is not, therefore I am
sure you will be wise and generous, and spare Amy further grief by
avoiding her for the little time we stay. Promise me this, Casimer."

"I may see her if I am dumb? Do not deny me this. I will not speak,
but I must look at my little and dear angel when she is near."

He pleaded so ardently with lips and hands, and eager eyes, that Helen
could not deny him, and when he had poured out his thanks she left
him, feeling very tender toward the unhappy young lover, whose passion
was so hopeless, yet so warm.

Amy was at breakfast in her room, sobbing and sipping, moaning and
munching, for, though her grief was great, her appetite was good, and
she was in no mood to see anything comical in cracking eggshells
while she bewailed her broken heart, or in eating honey in the act of
lamenting the bitterness of her fate.

Casimer would have become desperate had he seen her in the little blue
wrapper, with her bright hair loose on her shoulders, and her
pretty face wet with tears, as she dropped her spoon to seize his
flowers,--three dewy roses, one a bud, one half and the other fully
blown, making a fragrant record and avowal of the love which she must
renounce.

"Oh, my dear boy! how can I give him up, when he is so fond, and I am
all he has? Helen, uncle must let me write or go to mamma. She shall
decide; I can't; and no one else has a right to part us," sobbed Amy,
over her roses.

"Casimer will not marry, dear; he is too generous to ask such a
sacrifice," began Helen, but Amy cried indignantly,--

"It is no sacrifice; I'm rich. What do I care for his poverty?"

"His religion!" hinted Helen, anxiously.

"It need not part us; we can believe what we will. He is good; why
mind whether he is Catholic or Protestant?"

"But a Pole, Amy, so different in tastes, habits, character, and
beliefs. It is a great risk to marry a foreigner; races are so
unlike."

"I don't care if he is a Tartar, a Calmuck, or any of the other wild
tribes; I love him, he loves me, and no one need object if I don't."

"But, dear, the great and sad objection still remains--his health. He
just said he had but a little while to live."

Amy's angry eyes grew dim, but she answered, with soft earnestness,--

"So much the mor