without love! Whether from the length of time in which I
remained without answering, or that in my confusion he read something
adverse to his wishes, but Martin grew scarlet, and in a voice full of
emotion said,--

"There, Mr. Templeton, enough said. I see it will not do--there's no
need of explaining. I was a fool, that's all!"

"But will you not let me, at least, reflect?" "No, sir; not a second. If
my offer was not as frankly taken as made--ay, and on the instant too--I
am only the more ashamed for ever making it: but there's an end on't. If
you would be as good friends parting with me as we have been hitherto,
never speak of this again." And so saying, Martin turned on his heel and
walked hastily away. I followed him after a second, but he waved me back
with his hand, and I was forced to comply.

That day Amy and I dined alone together. Her father, she said, "had got
a bad headache;" and this she said with such evident candour, it was
clear she knew nothing of our interview. The dinner was to me, at least,
a very constrained affair; nor were my sensations rendered easier as she
said--"My father tells me that you are obliged to leave us this evening,
Mr. Templeton. I'm very sorry for it; but I hope we'll meet soon again."

We did not meet soon again, or ever. I left the farm that night for
London. Martin came to the door from his bed to wish me good-by. He
looked very ill, and only spoke a few words. His shake-hands was,
however, hearty; and his "God bless you," uttered with kind meaning.

I have never seen that neighbourhood since.

It was about two years after that I received a letter--the very one now
before me--superscribed Martin Haverstock. It was brief, and to this
effect. The Secretary for Foreign Affairs being a candidate for the
representation in Parliament of the county in which Martin held a large
stake, had, in acknowledgment of his friend Mr. Haverstock's exertions
in his support, been only too happy to consider the application made
respecting Mr. H.'s young friend, who, by the next Gazette, would be
announced for promotion.

And thus I was made Secretary of Legation at Studtgart!

There was a postscript to Martin's letter, which filled me with strange
and varying emotions:---"Amy is sorry that her baby is a little girl;
she'd like to have called it 'Horace.'"

This packet I need not open. The envelope is superscribed, "Hints and
Mems for H.T. during his residence at the Court of M------." The