ing indeed--I only love you more and more
every hour; that's all."

"Well, that isn't a thing to be sad about"--said Daphne, with a smile
that would have dispelled any grief less deeply settled than that of
her young companion. He parted from Daphne soon; without letting her
into the cause of his disquiet. But as there is no reason why the
secret should be kept any longer, let us tell what was going on at
the Chateau de Langevy.

His cousin Clotilde had arrived the evening before, with an old aunt,
to remain for the whole spring! Monsieur de Langevy, who was not
addicted to circumlocution in his mode of talk, told his son
point-blank, that his cousin was a pretty girl, and what was more, a
considerable heiress--so that it was his duty--his, Hector de
Langevy--the owner of a great name and a very small fortune, to
marry the said cousin--or if not, he must stand the consequences.
Hector, at the first intimation, had revolted indignantly against
the inhuman proposal, and made many inaudible vows of undying
constancy to his innocent and trusting Daphne; but by degrees, there
is no denying that--without thinking of the fortune--he found
various attractions in his cousin. She was beautiful, graceful,
winning. She took his arm quite unceremoniously. She had the most
captivating small-talk in the world. In short, if it had not been
for Daphne, he would have been in love with her at once. As he was
obliged, of course, to escort his cousin in her walks--or break with
her altogether--he did not go for two whole days to the Cottage of
the Vines. On the third day Clotilde begged him to take her to the
banks of the Lignon, and as the request was made in presence of his
father, he dared not refuse. He contented himself--by way of a
relief to his conscience--with breathing a sigh to Daphne. The
straightest road from the Chateau de Langevy to the Lignon, led past
the Cottage of the Vines--but Hector had no wish to go the
straightest road. He took a detour of nearly two miles, and led her
almost to the Park D'Urtis. While Clotilde amused herself by
gathering the blossoms, and turning aside the pendent boughs of
the willows that hung over the celebrated stream. Hector looked
over the scene of his first meeting with the shepherdesses, and
sighed--perhaps without knowing exactly wherefore. He was suddenly
startled by a scream--Clotilde, in stretching too far forward, had
missed her footing, and fallen upon the bank; she was within an i