rept upwards. It at last reached
Lavinia's face. She was not asleep. Her eyes very wide open were staring
at the ceiling with a vague, wistful expression. She gave a long sigh,
her body twisted, and leaning on her right elbow, her left hand
insinuated itself beneath the pillow and drew forth a letter which she
held in the moonlight and read. Her forehead puckered as though she were
in doubt. Her steadfast eyes seemed to contradict the smile curving her
upper lip. The paper slipped from her limp fingers and she pondered, her
colour deepening the while. Nothing short of a love letter could have
caused that delightful blush. What she read was this:--

"MY DEAREST LITTLE CHARMER,--

"My soul is full of expectancy. I can think of nothing but you--the
divinest being that ever tortured the heart of man. But the torture
is exquisite because I know when I fold you in my arms it will
change to bliss. You will keep your promise and meet me at the
'Conduit Head' to-morrow midnight, will you not? I can scarce
contain myself with thinking of it. If you come not what remains
for me but death? Without you life is worthless. Come. My coach
will be in readiness and the parson waiting for us at the Fleet.

"When we are married, as I've told you, my family cannot refuse to
receive my wife, but until we are made one they will do all they
can to keep us apart. My father insists upon my marrying a rich
city madam, but I'll none of her. I will only have you, my
beauteous Lavinia. I swear to you by all the gods that you shall be
back at school before dawn, as on the night of the dance when I
first saw my adorable divinity. No one will know but us two. It
will be a delicious secret. After I have seen you safely to Queen
Square and have parted from my dearest--it will be misery to bid
thee adieu--I shall ride post haste to my father and tell him
everything. He will at first be angry, but he will relent when he
sees your loveliness. We shall be forgiven and Heaven will be ours.

"Panting with impatience, ever your most devoted humble servant,

ARCHIBALD DORRIMORE."

Present taste would pronounce this effusion to be extravagant,
rhapsodical, high-flown, super-sentimental, but it did not read so to
Lavinia. It was in the fashion of the times--indeed it approached nearer
modern ideas than