gan to protest warmly against any intention of
mere compliment, when the return of Willingham with his song prevented
any renewal of the subject. I was annoyed and silent, and detected a
tremor in her voice while she sang the words, and saw her cheek paler
than usual. The instant the song was over, she complained with a smile
of being tired, and without a look at either of us, joined a party who
were noisily recounting the events of the race-course. Nor could I again
that evening obtain a moment's conversation with her. She spoke to me,
indeed, and very kindly; but once only did I catch her eye, when I was
speaking to some one else--the glance was rapidly withdrawn, but it
seemed rather sorrowful than cold.

I was busy with Hanmer the next morning before breakfast, when Dick
Phillips made his appearance, and informed us that the "strangers" had
made up an eleven for the cricket match, and that we were to play at
ten. He was a sort of live circular, dispatched to get all parties in
readiness.

"Oh! I have something for you from Clara," said he to me, as he was
leaving; "the words of a song she promised you, I believe."

I opened the sealed envelope, saw that it was not a song, and left
Hanmer somewhat abruptly. When I was alone, I read the following:--

"DEAR MR HAWTHORNE,--Possibly you may have been told that I have, before
now, done things which people call strange--that is, contrary to some
arbitrary notions which are to supersede our natural sense of right and
wrong. But never, until now, did I follow the dictates of my own
feelings in opposition to conventional rules, with the painful
uncertainty as to the propriety of such a course, which I now feel. And
if I had less confidence than I have in your honour and your kindness,
or less esteem for your character, or less anxiety for your happiness, I
would not write to you now. But I feel, that if you are what I wish to
believe you, it is right that you should be at once undeceived as to my
position. Others should have done it, perhaps--it would have spared me
much. Whether your attentions to me are in sport or earnest, they must
cease. I have no right to listen to such words as yours last night--my
heart and hand are engaged to one, who deserves better from me than the
levity which alone could have placed me in the position from which I
thus painfully extricate myself. For any fault on my part, I thus make
bitter atonement. I wish you health and happiness, and now l