no reason) that it will bring me a huge, overwhelming misfortune: and
yet I have just wished for a blessing of which I am vastly unworthy, but
which, if it does come, will probably come this year, and which would
make it the brightest one that I have ever seen. Be a prophet, Miss
Lascelles, and tell me--which will it be?--the joy or the sorrow?'

"He gazed so intently that I had some difficulty in answering with
composure--

"'Perhaps both. We are taught to believe that life is chequered.'

"'See,' he went on. 'This is the beginning of the year. We are standing
here safe and happy. Miss Lascelles, where shall we be when the year
ends?'

"The question seemed to me faithless in a Christian, and puerile in a
brave man: I did not say so; but my face may have expressed it, for he
changed the subject suddenly, and could not be induced to return to it.
I danced twice with him afterwards; and when we parted I said,
emphatically--

"'A happy new year to you, Mr. Manners.'

"He forced a smile as he answered, 'Amen!'

"Mrs. Dallas (who kindly chaperoned us) slept all the way home; and Miss
Dallas and Harriet chatted about their partners. Once only they appealed
to me. What first drew my attention was Mr. Manners' name.

"'Poor Mr. Manners!' Harriet said; 'I am afraid I was very rude to him.
He had to console himself with you, eh, Dolly?--on the principle of love
me love my dog, I suppose?'

"Am I so conceited that this had never struck me? And yet--but here
comes Harriet, and I must put you away, dear diary. I blush at my
voluminousness. If every evening is to take up so many pages, my book
will be full at Midsummer! But was not this a red-letter day?"

Well may I blush, dear Nell, to re-read this girlish nonsense. And yet
it contains not the least strange part of this strange story--poor Mr.
Manners' presentiment of evil. After this he called constantly, and we
met him often in society; and, blinded by I know not what delusion,
Harriet believed him to be devoted to herself, up to the period, as I
fancy, when he asked me to be his wife. I was staying with the Tophams
at the time. I believe that they had asked me there on purpose, being
his friends. Ah, George! what a happy time that was! How, in the sweet
days of the sweetest of summers, I laughed at your "presentiment"! How
you told me that the joy had come, and, reminding me of my own sermon on
the chequered nature of life, asked if the sorrow would yet tread it
down