with a beating heart, "'tis
a common sin. Proceed, my son."

"I was thinking of a little poem."

"Oh!" That was a disappointing continuation.

"'Twas a verse of Sir Thomas Wyatt's. Shall I tell it thee?"

"'Hide nothing from me,' as Father Philip says," replied Doll,
brightening up again, for she was well acquainted with the verse of
that unfortunate nobleman, which was almost all on the subject of
love. She thought she knew the verse which he would tell her, nor was
she mistaken. Almost everyone knew that verse, even if they knew none
other.

The young esquire fixed his eyes upon her, and began--

A face that should content me wondrous well.
Should not be fair, but lovely to behold;
Of lively look, all grief for to repel,
With right good grace as would I that it should
Speak, without words, such words as none can tell,
Her tress also should be of crisped gold;
With wit, and these, I might perchance be tried,
And knit again with knot that should not slide.

"Then I perceive you are difficult to please, my son," she replied.

"Listen, stay Dorothy," he said, quickly, as she stepped upon the
footbridge, "surely that means you. Oh, Dorothy, let me speak. I must
tell you. I cannot let you depart yet. I love you. I have loved you
ever since I saw you first."

He paused, but as the maiden did not speak, he continued.

"Ever since the hawking party I have loved you. Do you remember that?"

"I do," she demurely replied.

"Nay, stay, leave me not thus," he cried, as Dorothy unconsciously
moved. "You must stay, you must listen. Dorothy, I cannot flatter you
like some; I speak the truth. I cannot live without you make me happy.
Will you be mine?"

"But, sir knight--"

"Nay," he interrupted, "say it is so. I am no knight, I am but a
simple esquire, but though you be the daughter of the rich King of the
Peak--"

"Nay, do not talk like that," she interrupted quickly.

"Let me do something to show the vastness of my love," he went on.
"What shall it be? Bid me do aught, or go anywhere; command me what
you will, but say you love me."

"And if I do, what then?"

"What then?" he echoed; "I would live or die for you--for you alone."

"I do love you, then," she replied, with downcast eyes and blushing
face.

Manners stood up erect, and glanced straight into the honest eyes of
the beautiful girl as she stood on the bridge beside him.

"You do?" he exclaimed; "say it again."

"I do love you." s