at parsons.

Pere Michaux saw his charge to bed, and went to bed himself in an
adjoining room. He slept soundly; but at the first peep of dawn his
charge was gone--gone to meet Anne on the heights, as agreed between
them the night before.

O wise Pere Michaux!

The sun was not yet above the horizon, but Anne was there. The youth
took her hands in his, and looked at her earnestly. He was half
surprised himself at what he had done, and he looked at her again to see
how it had happened. All his life from earliest childhood she had been
his dearest companion and friend; but now she was his betrothed wife,
would she be in any way different? The sun came up, and showed that she
was just the same--calm, clear-eyed, and sweet-voiced. What more could
he ask?

"_Do_ you love me, Annet?" he said more than once, looking at her as
though she ought to be some new and only half-comprehended person.

"You know I do," she answered. Then, as he asked again, "Why do you ask
me?" she said. "Has not my whole life shown it?"

"Yes," he answered, growing more calm. "I believe you _have_ loved me
all your life, Annet."

"I have," replied the girl.

He kissed her gently. "I shall always be kind to you," he said. Then,
with a half-sigh, "You will like to live here?"

"It is my home, Rast. However, other places will not seem strange after
I have seen the great city. For of course I must go to New York, just
the same, to learn to be a teacher, and help the children: we may be
separated for years."

"Oh no; I shall be able to take care of you all before long," said Rast,
grandly. "As soon as I have been through college I shall look about and
decide upon something. Would you like me to be a lawyer? Or a surgeon?
Then there is always the army. Or we might have a farm."

"There is only Frobisher's."

"Oh, you mean here on the island? Well, Frobisher's would do. We could
repair the old house, and have a pony-cart, and drive in to town." Here
the steamer sounded its first whistle. That meant that it would start in
half an hour. Rast left the future and his plans in mid-air, and took
Anne in his arms with real emotion. "Good-by, dear, good-by," he said.
"Do not grieve, or allow yourself to be lonely. I shall see you soon in
some way, even if I have to go to New York for the purpose. Remember
that you are my betrothed wife now. That thought will comfort you."

"Yes," said Anne, her sincere eyes meeting his. Then she clung to him
for a few