nd me so perfectly,
to be so gentle and so considerate in feeling for my distress. You
confused me a little, I must own, by what you said afterward. But I am
not sure that ought to be severe in blaming you. Sympathy--I mean
such sympathy as yours--sometimes says more than discretion can always
approve. Have you not found it so yourself?"

"I have found it so with you."

"And perhaps I have shown a little too plainly how dependent I am on
you--how dreadful it would be to me if I lost you too as a friend?"

She blushed as she said it. When the words had escaped her, she felt
that they might bear another meaning than the simple meaning which
she had attached to them. He took her hand; his doubts of himself, his
needless fear of offending her, restrained him no longer.

"You can never lose me," he said, "if you will only let me be the
nearest friend that a woman can have. Bear with me, dearest! I ask for
so much; I have so little to offer in return. I dream of a life with you
which is perhaps too perfectly happy to be enjoyed on earth. And yet, I
cannot resign my delusion. Must my poor heart always long for happiness
which is beyond my reach? If an overruling Providence guides our course
through this world, may we not sometimes hope for happier ends than our
mortal eyes can see?"

He waited a moment--and sighed--and dropped her hand. She hid her face;
she knew what it would tell him: she was ashamed to let him see it.

"I didn't mean to distress you," he said sadly.

She let him see her face. For a moment only, she looked at him--and then
let silence tell him the rest.

His arms closed round her. Slowly, the glory of the sun faded from the
heavens, and the soft summer twilight fell over the earth. "I can't
speak," he whispered; "my happiness is too much for me."

"Are you sure of your happiness?" she asked.

"Could I think as I am thinking now, if I were not sure of it?"

"Are you thinking of _me?_"

"Of you--and of all that you will be to me in the future. Oh, my angel,
if God grants us many years to come, what a perfect life I see!"

"Tell me--what do you see?"

"I see a husband and wife who are all in all to each other. If friends
come to us, we are glad to bid them welcome; but we are always happiest
by ourselves."

"Do we live in retirement?"

"We live where you like best to live. Shall it be in the country?"

"Yes! yes! You have spoken of the sea as you might have spoken of your
best friend--we wi