' her heart sae true,
Hae won me mair than ony, O."

"Pretty, isn't it?" sighed Jacques; "but here is another verse:

"Yestreen we met beside the birk,
A-down ayont the burnie, O,
An' wan'er't till the auld gray kirk
A stap put to our journie, O.

"Ah, lassie, there it stans! quo' I----"

With which words Jacques shut the book, and threw upon Belle-bouche a
glance which made that young lady color to the roots of her hair.

"I think we had better go," murmured Belle-bouche, rising; "I have to
fix for the ball----"

"Not before----!"

"No, not before Tuesday, I believe," said Belle-bouche; "I am glad
they changed it from Monday."

Jacques drew back, sighing; but returning to the attack, said in an
expiring voice:

"What will my Flora wear--lace and flowers?"

"Who is she?" said Belle-bouche, putting on her light chip hat and
tying the ribbon beneath her dimpled chin.

Poor Jacques was for a moment so completely absorbed by this lovely
picture, that he did not reply.

"Who is Flora!--can you ask?" he stammered.

"Oh, yes!" said Belle-bouche, blushing; "you mean Philippa, do you
not? But I can't tell you what she will wear. She has returned home.
Let us go back through the orchard."

And Belle-bouche, with that exquisite grace which characterized her,
crossed the log and stood upon the opposite bank of the brook, looking
coquettishly over her shoulder at the melancholy Jacques, who was so
absorbed in gazing after her that he had scarcely presence of mind
enough to follow.

"What a lovely day; a real lover's day!" he said, with a sigh, when he
had joined her, and they were walking on.

"Delightful," said Belle-bouche, smelling a violet.

"And the blossoms, you know," observed Jacques disconsolately.

"Delicious!"

"To say nothing of the birds," continued Jacques, sighing. "I believe
the birds know the twentieth of May is coming."

"Why--what takes place upon the twentieth?" said Belle-bouche, with a
faint smile.

"That is the day for lovers, and I observed a number of birds making
love as I came along," sighed Jacques. "I only wish they'd teach me
how."

Belle-bouche turned away, blushing.

"On the twentieth of May," continued Jacques, enveloping the
fascinating countenance of Belle-bouche with his melancholy glance,
"the old lovers in Arcadia--the Strephons, Chloes, Corydons, Daphnes,
and Narcissuses--always made love and married on that day."

"Then," s