Miss Noel. I cannot
think----"

She interrupted him by a gesture of her white hand.

"I will send it, uncle," she said, and disappeared.

The farmer turned with a smile to the young lord.

"She is very proud," he said; "but she is a fine girl."

The cider came; the visitor duly drank his glass and went; his only
reward for all that trouble was the one glance at her face.

That same evening a little note was given to her, in which he begged her
so humbly to forgive him, and to meet him again, that she relented.

He had learned his lesson; he wooed her with the deference due to a
young princess; no word or action of his displeased her after that,
while he loved her with a love that was akin to madness.

So through the long, bright, beautiful summer days, in the early
morning, while the sweet, fragrant air seemed to sweep the earth, and in
the evening when the dew lay upon flower and tree, they met and learned
to love each other.

One evening, as they sat by their favorite spot--the mill-stream--Lord
Chandos told her how he had learned to love her, how he had ceased to
think of anything in the world but herself.

"I knew you were my fate, Leone," he said, "when I saw you sitting here
by the mill-stream. I am quite sure that I have loved you ever since. I
do not remember that there has been one moment in which I have not
thought of you. I shall always thank Heaven that I came to Rashleigh--I
found my darling here."

For once all the pride had died from her face; all the hauteur was gone
from her eyes; a lovely gleam of tenderness took its place; a love-light
in the shy, sweet eyes that dropped from his.

"My darling Leone," he said, "if I lived a hundred years I could only
say over and over again--'I love you.' Those three words say everything.
Do you love me?"

She looked up at him. Then she raised her dark eyes to his and a little
quiver passed over her beautiful mouth.

"Yes, I love you," she said. "Whether it be for weal or for woe, for
good or ill, I know not; but I love you."

There was unutterable pathos, unutterable music in those three words;
they seemed to rhyme with the chime of the falling waters. She held out
her white hands, he clasped them in his.

"Why do you say it so sadly, my darling? Love will bring nothing but
happiness for you and for me," he said.

She laid her white arms on his neck, and looked earnestly in his face.

"There can be no comparison," she said. "Love to you is only