ng them, that she might
leave her companion at liberty. Had she been looking at him she would
have seen some surprise, and even a little annoyance in his countenance
as his eyes rested on the seals of his dispatch. He opened it, and the
annoyance deepened. He read it more than once. Minutes passed in perfect
silence, and Mary began to wonder what correspondent could so deeply
interest him. A heavy sigh made her look up. His letter lay open on the
table before him, but he had evidently long ceased to read, for his arm
rested upon it, while his eyes were fixed with an expression at once
intent and mournful on her. Mary thought only of him as she said, "I
hope you have no painful intelligence there, Captain Percy."

"I suppose I ought to consider it very joyful intelligence--I am no
longer a prisoner--I have been exchanged, and"--he hesitated, looked
away, then added rapidly--"I am ordered immediately to join my regiment
in Canada."

A quick drawing of the breath, as though from sudden pain, met his
ear--his heart beat quickly, but he would not embarrass her by a glance.
There was a slight rustling of her dress, and turning he saw that she
had risen, and with one hand pressed upon the table for support, was
advancing to the door. Falteringly, one--two--three steps were taken,
and completely overcome, pale and ready to faint, she sank upon a sofa
near her. He sprang forward, but she motioned him away, and covering her
face with her hands, burst into tears--tears of shame as well as of
sorrow. For an instant he stood irresolute--but only for an instant,
when bending over her, he whispered, "Dare I hope that you sympathize
with me, Mary--that the feeling which made even liberty painful to me
since it separates me from you, is not confined to my own bosom?"

Mary's sobs ceased--but she spoke not--moved not.

"Answer me, dear Mary--remember I have little time to woo, for my orders
admit of no delay in their execution--I must leave you to-morrow. Rise
then above the petty formalities of your sex, and if I may indeed hope
ever to call you mine, let me do so this night--this hour--your father
will not, I think, fear to commit you to my tenderness."

Mary uncovered her face, and raised her eyes for an instant to his, with
an expression so confiding that he thought his suit was won, and
pressing her hand to his lips, he said, "That glance tells me that you
are my own, Mary. My life shall prove my gratitude--but now I must seek