gether Thorold seemed to me different from
what he had been the last summer; there was a gravity now in his face
and air at times that was new and even stern; the gravity of a man
taking stern life work upon him. I felt all this in a minute, while
Thorold was smiling down into my face.

"And you will write to me?" he said.

"Yes."

"And I will write to you. And I belong to you, Daisy, and to no other.
All I have is yours, and all that I am is yours--after my duty; you
may dispose of me, pretty one, just as you like. _You_ would not have
that put second, Daisy."

A great yearning came over me, so great and strong that it almost took
away my breath. I fancy it spoke in my eyes, for Thorold's face grew
very grave, I remember, as he looked at me. But I must speak it more
plainly than so, at any costs, breath or no breath, and I must not
wait.

"Christian," I whispered, "won't you earn your right to your name?"

He pressed his lips upon mine by way of answer first, and then gave me
a quick and firm "Yes." I certainly thought he had found a mouth he
was talking of a little while ago. But at that instant the sound of
the distant house door closing, and then of steps coming out from the
parlour, made me know that Miss Cardigan's business was over, and that
she was returning to us. I wanted to free myself from Thorold's arm,
but he would not let me; on the contrary, held me closer, and half
turned to meet Miss Cardigan as she came in. Certainly men are very
different from women. There we stood, awaiting her; and I felt very
much ashamed.

"Come on, Aunt Catherine," Thorold said, as she paused at the
door,--"come in, come in, and kiss her--this little darling is mine."

Miss Cardigan came in slowly. I could not look up.

"Kiss her, Aunt Catherine," he repeated; "she is mine."

And to my great dismay he set her the example; but I think it was
partly to reassure me, and cover my confusion, which he saw.

"I have kissed Daisy very often before now," said Miss Cardigan. I
thought I discerned some concern in her voice.

"Then come, do it again," said Thorold, laughing. "You never kissed
her as anything belonging to me, Aunt Catherine."

And he fairly laid me in Miss Cardigan's arms, till we kissed each
other as he desired. But Miss Cardigan's gravity roused me out of my
confusion. I was not ashamed before her; only before him.

"Now, Aunt Catherine," he said, pulling up a comfortable arm chair to
the corner of the he