urned over the leaf of my music-book, for a generous
proof of confidence. I took no notice of these words, but was conscious
of a flush of indignation at the word _confidence_.

"'Arthur and I were always together; we read together, and talked over
our past and future lives. Nothing now troubled me. He took all the
burden and anxiety of my life to himself, and with his love added a
sense of peace and security most exquisite to me.

"'I told him all the miserable story of Frank, and he listened gravely;
but though it certainly troubled him, it never seemed to daunt him for
an instant. So gentle as he is, nothing ever could shake him. I was so
happy then, that I could not feel angry even with Marmaduke; and as he
seemed to be willing to forget the past, we became somewhat more
friendly towards each other. But if I ever happened to be alone with
him, even for a moment, the recollection of our talk in the shrubbery
would come to my mind, and the old feeling of anger would spring up
again, the effort to suppress which was so painful that I always avoided
being with him, unless Arthur were by also.

"'One day there came a letter from my father,--and what its character
was you may suppose, when I tell you that it made me utterly forget my
present happiness. At the end of the letter he commanded me to return
home immediately. It came one evening: I read and re-read its cruel
words till I could bear no more. I saw Arthur standing in the twilight
below my window, and went down and laid the letter silently in his
hands. When he had finished reading it, he came slowly towards me. I
shall never forget his look as he took my hands in his and drew me to
him, looking into my face so earnestly. Then he said, in a low, grave
voice, "Lina, do you love me? Then we must be married at once,--do not
be afraid,--perhaps to-night. I fear your father may follow that letter
very soon. You have suffered too much already. You have no one but me to
look to. Heaven knows I do not think alone of my own happiness."'

"Lina paused a moment. 'I yielded,' she said. 'I could have followed him
blindly then anywhere! So that evening, in the drawing-room, with Mr.
and Mrs. Baxter and Marmaduke as witnesses, we were married by a Scotch
clergyman (there was no clergyman of our own Church within twenty
miles). The ceremony was very simple. As the last words were being
pronounced, some one entered the room hastily, and there was whispering
and confusion for a