eing one of the lakes at
least."

"We'll get over to Windermere one day," said Kate.

"I don't think we shall. I don't think it possible that I should stay
long. Kate, I've got a letter to show you." And there was that in the
tone of her voice which instantly put Kate upon her mettle.

Kate seated herself also, and put up her hand for the letter. "Is it
from Mr Grey?" she asked.

"No," said Alice; "it is not from Mr Grey." And she gave her
companion the paper. Kate before she had touched it had seen that it
was from her brother George; and as she opened it looked anxiously
into Alice's face. "Has he offended you?" Kate asked.

"Read it," said Alice, "and then we'll talk of it afterwards,--as we
go home." Then she got up from the stone and walked a step or two
towards the brow of the fell, and stood there looking down upon the
lake, while Kate read the letter. "Well!" she said, when she returned
to her place.

"Well," said Kate. "Alice, Alice, it will, indeed, be well if you
listen to him. Oh, Alice, may I hope? Alice, my own Alice, my
darling, my friend! Say that it shall be so." And Kate knelt at her
friend's feet upon the heather, and looked up into her face with eyes
full of tears. What shall we say of a woman who could be as false as
she had been, and yet could be so true?

Alice made no immediate answer, but still continued to gaze down over
her friend upon the lake. "Alice," continued Kate, "I did not think
I should be made so happy this Christmas Day. You could not have the
heart to bring me here and show me this letter in this way, and bid
me read it so calmly, and then tell me that it is all for nothing.
No; you could not do that? Alice, I am so happy. I will so love this
place. I hated it before." And then she put her face down upon the
boulder-stone and kissed it. Still Alice said nothing, but she began
to feel that she had gone further than she had intended. It was
almost impossible for her now to say that her answer to George must
be a refusal.

Then Kate again went on speaking. "But is it not a beautiful letter?
Say, Alice,--is it not a letter of which if you were his brother you
would feel proud if another girl had shown it to you? I do feel proud
of him. I know that he is a man with a manly heart and manly courage,
who will yet do manly things. Here out on the mountain, with nobody
near us, with Nature all round us, I ask you on your solemn word as a
woman, do you love him?"

"Love him!" sai