er it was not enough. Beth scarcely ate or slept at that time;
the glow and spring and flood of feeling that coursed through her
whole being sustained her.

"When we are married we shall always be together," Alfred would
whisper when they had to separate; and then their eyes would dilate
with joy at the heavenly prospect; each was covered the while with
smiles and confusion neither of which they could control. They made
each other no formal vows. It was all taken for granted between them.
Now they were engaged; but when they were old enough, and had an
income, they were to be married.

Alfred had given up the idea of making Mrs. Caldwell's acquaintance
before it was absolutely necessary. For the present, it delighted them
to think that their secret was all their own, and no one suspected it,
except Dicksie, the vicar's hunchback son, whom Alfred had taken into
his confidence. Dicksie was as old as Alfred, but his deformity had
stunted his growth, and the young lovers, looking down into his
pathetic face, were filled with compassion, and eagerly anxious to
make atonement to him for his misfortune by sharing as much of their
happiness with him as might be. They encouraged him to accompany them
in their walks when he could, which was a joy to him, for he was
content to live upon the fringe of their romance unselfishly. When
they separated, Beth and Alfred kissed each other frankly, and then
Beth would stoop and kiss Dicksie also, in pure affection.

Neither of the three troubled themselves about other people in those
days, and they never suspected that their own doings could be of
consequence to anybody. They therefore remained serenely unaware of
the fact that the whole place was talking about them, their own
relations being the only people who did not know of the intimacy; and,
worse still, everybody objected to it. All the forces of Nature
combined, and the vast scheme of the universe itself had been ordered
so as to unite those two young things; but, on the other hand, the
whole machinery of civilisation was set in readiness to keep them
apart. And the first intimation they had of this fact took them by
surprise.

The whole happy summer had passed, and autumn was with them, mellow,
warm, and still. The days were shorter then, and the young people
delighted to slip out at dusk, and wander about the fields, all three
together. A gate opened from the vicarage grounds into the field-path
beside the church, and there A