er hand trembled in
the eager clasp he fastened upon it.

Not once did it come into her mind that Reuben was to make a declaration
of passion for her. She had feared only some burst of feeling in the
direction of the spinster, or of the Doctor, which should compromise him
even more seriously. When, therefore, he burst forth, as he did
presently, with a passionate avowal of his love, she was overwhelmed
with confusion.

"This is so sudden, so strange, Reuben! indeed it is!"

Tenderly as she may have felt toward him in days gone, and gratefully as
she always felt, this sudden attempt to carry by storm the very citadel
of her affections was not alone a surprise, but seemed like sacrilege.
The mystery and doubt that overhung the relations between her own father
and mother--and which she felt keenly--had made her regard with awe any
possible marriage of her own, investing the thought of it with a
terrible sanctity, and as something to be approached only with a
reverent fear. If in this connection she had ever thought of Reuben, it
was in those days when he seemed so earnest in the faith, and when their
feelings were blent by some superhuman agency. But at his divergence
into the paths of skepticism, it seemed to her simple and intense faith
that thenceforth their pilgrimages must be wholly distinct: his--and she
trembled at the thought of it--through some terrible maze of error,
where she could not follow: and hers--by God's grace--straight to the
city whose gates are of pearl.

When, therefore, she had replied to the passionate address of Reuben,
"You must not talk thus," it was with a tear in her eye.

"It grieves you, then, Adele?"

"Yes, it grieves me, Reuben. Our paths are different now"; and she
bethought herself of her father's injunction, which seemed to make her
duty still plainer, and forbade her to encourage that parley with her
heart which--with her hand still fast in Reuben's, and his eyes beaming
with a fierce heat upon her--she was beginning to entertain.

"Adele, tell me, can I go on?"

"Indeed, indeed, you must not, Reuben!"--and withdrawing her hand
suddenly, she passed it over brow and eyes, as if to rally her thoughts
to measure the situation.

"You are weeping, Adele?" said Reuben.

"No, not weeping," said she, dashing the merest film of mist from her
eyes, "but so troubled!--so troubled!" And she looked yearningly, but
vainly, in his face for that illumination which had belonged to his
enth