r rapidly down Hester's cheeks while he was
speaking; yet they were not tears of unmingled grief.

"Oh, Mr Foster!" she said, seizing the middy's hand, and kissing it,
"how shall I _ever_ thank you?"

Before she could add another word, an unlucky touch of Foster's heel
laid the easel, with an amazing clatter, flat on the marble floor!
Hester bounded through the doorway more swiftly than her own gazelle,
slammed the door behind her, and vanished like a vision.

Poor Foster! Although young and enthusiastic, he was not a coxcomb.
The thrill in the hand that had been kissed told him plainly that he was
hopelessly in love! But a dull weight on his heart told him, he thought
as plainly, that Hester was _not_ in the same condition.

"Dear child!" he said, as he slowly gathered up the drawing materials,
"if that innocent, transparent, almost infantine creature had been old
enough to fall in love she would sooner have hit me on the nose with her
lovely fist than have kissed my great ugly paw--even though she _was_
overwhelmed with joy at hearing about her father."

Having replaced the easel and drawing, he seated himself on an ottoman,
put his elbows on his knees, laid his forehead in his hands, and began
to meditate aloud.

"Yes," he said, with a profound sigh, "I love her--that's as clear as
daylight; and she does not love me--that's clearer than daylight.
Unrequited love! That's what I've come to! Nevertheless, I'm not in
wild despair. How's that? I don't want to shoot or drown myself.
How's that? On the contrary, I want to live and rescue her. I could
serve or die for that child with pleasure--without even the reward of a
smile! There must be something peculiar here. Is it--can it be
Platonic love? Of course that must be it. Yes, I've often heard and
read of that sort of love before. I _know_ it now, and--and--I rather
like it!"

"You don't look as if you did, Geo'ge," said a deep voice beside him.

George started up with a face of scarlet.

"Peter!" he exclaimed fiercely, "did you hear me speak? _What_ did you
hear?"

"Halo! Geo'ge, don't squeeze my arm so! You's hurtin' me. I hear you
say somet'ing 'bout plotummik lub, but what sort o' lub that may be is
more'n I kin tell."

"Are you _sure_ that is all you--But come, Peter, I should have no
secrets from _you_. The truth is," (he whispered low here), "I have
seen Hester Sommers--here, in this room, not half an hour ago--and--and
I feel that I