coquettish smile stole over her mouth.

"We have said that to each other from the cradle up."

"No, never before, never with this depth of meaning--my heart is broken
up, Lina; there is nothing left of it but a flood of tender love--you
are no longer my sister, but my idol; I worship you, Lina!"

Again Lina lifted her eyes, so blue, so flooded with gentle gratitude;
but she did not speak, for Ben was resting on his oars, while the boat
crept silently down the current.

"Why don't you steer for home?" asked Ralph, impatient of Ben's eyes.

"I see that ere old respectable gentleman on the bank, a looking this
way, so I thought we'd lie to and refit more particularly about the
upper story. If Miss Lina there'll just shake them ere curls back a
trifle, and tie on her bonnet; and if you, Mister Ralph, could just
manage to look t'other way and take an observation of the scenery,
perhaps we should make out to pass with a clear bill and without
over-haulin'."

"You are right," said Ralph after a moment, looking anxiously, toward
the shore, where the stately figure of old Mr. Harrington was distinctly
visible; "my father is a great stickler for proprieties. Here is your
hat, Lina--let me fold this scarf about you."

As Ralph spoke, the flush left his face, and a look of fatigue crept
over Lina. Ben still rested on his oars. He was determined to give the
old gentleman ample opportunity to continue his walk inland, before the
young people were submitted to his scrutiny. As they lingered floating
upon the waters, a tiny boat shot from beneath a cliff below them, and
was propelled swiftly down the river. In it was a female rendered
conspicuous by a scarlet shawl, and in the still life around them, this
boat became an object of interest. It was only for a moment, the young
people were too deeply occupied with their own feelings to dwell upon
even this picturesque adjunct to a scene which was now flooded
gorgeously with the sunset. Ben, however, became restless and anxious.
Without a word he seized his oars, and pushed directly for the cove in
which his boat was usually moored.

Ralph and Lina went homewards with a reluctance never experienced
before. A sense of concealment oppressed them. An indefinite terror of
meeting their friends, rendered their steps slow upon the green sward.
As they drew towards the house, Ralph paused.

"Speak to me, Lina, my heart is heavy without the sound of your voice:
say you love me, or shall