g which one
cannot find in the heart of the dearest sister that ever lived. But
Bathsheba was herself sensitive, and changed color when Cyprian ventured
a hint or two in the direction of his thought, so that he never got so
fax as to unburden his heart to her about Myrtle, whom she admired so
sincerely that she could not have helped feeling a great interest in his
passion towards her.

As for Gifted Hopkins, the roses that were beginning to bloom fresher
and fresher every day in Myrtle's cheeks unfolded themselves more and
more freely, to speak metaphorically, in his song. Every week she would
receive a delicately tinted note with lines to "Myrtle awaking," or to
"Myrtle retiring," (one string of verses a little too Musidora-ish, and
which soon found itself in the condition of a cinder, perhaps reduced
to that state by spontaneous combustion,) or to "The Flower of the
Tropics," or to the "Nymph of the River-side," or other poetical alias,
such as bards affect in their sieges of the female heart.

Gifted Hopkins was of a sanguine temperament. As he read and re-read his
verses it certainly seemed to him that they must reach the heart of
the angelic being to whom they were addressed. That she was slow in
confessing the impression they made upon her, was a favorable sign; so
many girls called his poems "sweet pooty," that those charming words,
though soothing, no longer stirred him deeply. Myrtle's silence showed
that the impression his verses had made was deep. Time would develop her
sentiments; they were both young; his position was humble as yet; but
when he had become famous through the land-oh blissful thought!--the
bard of Oxbow Village would bear a name that any woman would be proud
to assume, and the M. H. which her delicate hands had wrought on the
kerchiefs she wore would yet perhaps be read, not Myrtle Hazard, but
Myrtle Hopkins.

CHAPTER XIX. SUSAN'S YOUNG MAN.

There seems no reasonable doubt that Myrtle Hazard might have made a
safe thing of it with Gifted Hopkins, (if so inclined,) provided that
she had only been secured against interference. But the constant habit
of reading his verses to Susan Posey was not without its risk to so
excitable a nature as that of the young poet. Poets were always capable
of divided affections, and Cowley's "Chronicle" is a confession that
would fit the whole tribe of them. It is true that Gifted had no right
to regard Susan's heart as open to the wiles of any new-come