m Sidus? And when centuries have rolled
over, will historians have their difficulty about the first Potts, and
what his opinions were on this subject or that?"

Then came a low soft sound of half-suppressed laughter, and then the
rustle of a muslin dress hastily brushing through the trees. I rushed
out from my retreat, and hurried down the walk. No one to be seen,--not
a soul; not a sound, either, to be heard.

"No use hiding, Mary," I called out, "I saw you all the time; my mock
confession was got up merely to amuse you. Come out boldly and laugh
as long as you will." No answer. This refusal amazed me. It was like a
disbelief in my assertion. "Come, come!" I cried, "you can't pretend to
think I was serious in all this vainglorious nonsense. Come, Mary, and
let us enjoy the laugh at it together. If you don't, I shall be angry.
I'll take it ill,--very ill."

Still no reply. Could I, then, have been deceived? Was it a mere
delusion? But no; I heard the low laugh, and the rustle of the dress,
and the quick tread upon the gravel, too plainly for any mistake, and
so I returned to the cottage in chagrin and ill-temper. As I passed the
open windows' of the little drawing-room I saw Mary seated at her work,
with, as was her custom, an open book on a little table beside her.
Absorbed as she was, she did not lift her head, nor notice my approach
till I entered the room.

"You have no letter for me?" she cried, in a voice of sorrowful meaning.

"None," said I scrutinizing her closely, and sorely puzzled what to make
of her calm deportment. "Have you been out in the garden this morning?"
I asked, abruptly.

"No," said she, frankly.

"Not quitted the house at all?"

"No. Why do you ask?" cried she, in some surprise.

"I 'll tell you," I said, sitting down at her side, and speaking in a
low and confidential tone; "a strange thing has just happened to me."
And with that I narrated the incident, glossing over, as best I
might, the absurdity of my soliloquizing, and the nature of the
self-examination I was engaged in. Without waiting for me to finish, she
broke in suddenly with a low laugh, and said,--

"It must have been Rose."

"And who is Rose?" I asked half sternly.

"A cousin of ours, a mere school-girl, who has just arrived. She came by
the mail this morning, when you were out. But here she is, coming up
the walk. Just step behind that screen, and you shall have your revenge.
I'll make her tell everything."

I had