a proper spirit. His heart, as well as Godfrey's,
was uplifted, to think he had this lovely creature to direct and
superintend: through her sweet confidence, he had to set her free from
unjust oppression taking advantage of her simplicity. But in very truth
he was giving her just the instruction that goes to make a slave--the
slave in heart, who serves without devotion, and serves unworthily. Yet
in this, and much more such poverty-stricken, swine-husk argument,
Letty seemed to hear a gospel of liberty, and scarcely needed the
following injunctions of Tom, to make a firm resolve not to utter a
word concerning him. To do so would be treacherous to him, and would be
to forfeit the liberty he had taught her! Thus, from the neglect of a
real duty, she became the slave of a false one.

"If you do," Tom had said, "I shall never see you again: they will set
every one about the place to watch you, like so many cats after one
poor little white mousey, and on the least suspicion, one way or
another, you will be gobbled up, as sure as fate, before you can get to
me to take care of you."

Letty looked up at him gratefully.

"But what could you do for me if I did?" she asked. "If my aunt were to
turn me out of the house, your mother would not take me in!"

Letty was not herself now; she was herself and Tom--by no means a
healthful combination.

"My mother won't be mistress long," answered Tom. "She will have to do
as I bid her when I am one-and-twenty, and that will be in a few
months." Tom did not know the terms of his father's will. "In the mean
time we must keep quiet, you know. I don't want a row--we have plenty
of row as it is. You may be sure _I_ shall tell no one how I spent the
happiest hour of my life. How little circumstance has to do with
bliss!" he added, with a philosophical sigh. "Here we are in a wretched
hut, roared and rained upon by an equinoctial tempest, and I am in
paradise!"

"I must go home," said Letty, recalled to a sense of her situation, yet
set trembling with pleasure, by his words. "See, it is getting quite
dark!"

"Don't be afraid, my white bird," said Tom. "I will see you home. But
surely you are as well here as there anyhow! Who knows when we shall
meet again? Don't be alarmed; I'm not going to ask you to meet me
anywhere; I know your sweet innocence would make you fancy it wrong,
and then you would be unhappy. But that is no reason why I should not
fall in with you when I have the chance. It