inery."

"Ah! and when will your father return?"

"In about an hour, I presume. Shall you attend Aunt Adie's wedding?" she
asked.

"Yes, I think so. Don't you sometimes feel as if you'd like to stay here
altogether?"

"Yes, and no; it's very lovely, and the more charming I believe, because
it is my own; but--there is so much more to bind me to the Oaks, and I
could never live far away from papa."

"Couldn't you? I hoped---- Oh, Elsie, couldn't you possibly love some one
else better even than you love him? You're more to me than father, mother,
and all the world beside. I have wanted to tell you so for years, but
while I was comparatively poor your fortune sealed my lips. Now I am rich,
and I lay all I have at your feet; myself included; and----"

"Oh, Harold, hush!" she cried in trembling tones, flushing and paling by
turns, and putting up her hand as if to stop the torrent of words he was
pouring forth so unexpectedly that astonishment had struck her dumb for an
instant; "oh! don't say any more, I--I thought you surely knew that--that
I am already engaged."

"No. To whom?" he asked hoarsely, his face pale as death, and lips
quivering so that he could scarcely speak.

"To Mr. Travilla. It has been only for a few weeks, though we have loved
each other for years. Oh, Harold, Harold, do not look so wretched! you
break my heart, for I love you as a very dear brother."

He turned away with a groan, and without another word hastened back to the
house, while Elsie, covering her face with her hands, shed some very
bitter tears.

Heart-broken, stunned, feeling as if every good thing in life had suddenly
slipped from his grasp, Harold sought his room, mechanically gathered up
his few effects, packed them into his valise, then sat down by the open
window and leant his head upon his hand.

He couldn't think, he could only feel that all was lost, and that he must
go away at once, if he would not have everybody know it, and make the idol
of his heart miserable with the sight of his wretchedness.

Why had he not known of her engagement? Why had no one told him? Why had
he been such a fool as to suppose he could win so great a prize? He was
not worthy of her. How plainly he saw it now, how sorely repented of the
conceit that had led him on to the avowal of his passion.

He had a vague recollection that a boat was to pass that afternoon. He
would take passage in that, and he hoped Mr. Dinsmore's return might be
delayed t