smiled mischievously. "I have got a delicious surprise for you, my
dear; and I do so enjoy prolonging it. Tell me, Helena, what did you
propose we should both do when we found ourselves at home again?"

My memory was at fault. Eunice's good spirits became absolutely
boisterous. She called out: "Catch!" and tossed her journal into my
hands, across the whole length of the room. "We were to read each
other's diaries," she said. "There is mine to begin with."

Innocent of any suspicion of the true state of affairs, I began the
reading of Eunice's journal. If I had not seen the familiar handwriting,
nothing would have induced me to believe that a girl brought up in
a pious household, the well-beloved daughter of a distinguished
Congregational Minister, could have written that shameless record of
passions unknown to young ladies in respectable English life. What to
say, what to do, when I had closed the book, was more than I felt myself
equal to decide. My wretched sister spared me the anxiety which I might
otherwise have felt. It was she who first opened her lips, after the
silence that had fallen on us while I was reading. These were literally
the words that she said:

"My darling, why don't you congratulate me?"

No argument could have persuaded me, as this persuaded me, that all
sisterly remonstrance on my part would be completely thrown away.

"My dear Eunice," I said, "let me beg you to excuse me. I am waiting--"

There she interrupted me--and, oh, in what an impudent manner! She took
my chin between her finger and thumb, and lifted my downcast face, and
looked at me with an appearance of eager expectation which I was quite
at a loss to understand.

"You have been away from home, too," she said. "Do I see in this serious
face some astonishing news waiting to overpower me? Have _you_ found a
sweetheart? Are _you_ engaged to be married?"

I only put her hand away from me, and advised her to return to her
chair. This perfectly harmless proceeding seemed absolutely to frighten
her.

"Oh, my dear," she burst out, "surely you are not jealous of me?"

There was but one possible reply to this: I laughed at it. Is Eunice's
head turned? She kissed me!

"Now you laugh," she said, "I begin to understand you again; I ought to
have known that you are superior to jealousy. But, do tell me, would it
be so very wonderful if other girls found something to envy in my good
luck? Just think of it! Such a handsome man, such an a