have very often heard the remark made, that great friendships usually end in love, on one side, or on both. I can understand it," he continued; "such persons begin only with friendship, but every day they grow to know more and more of each other, probably to know each other thoroughly; their tastes and pursuits, too, generally are the same; for it is necessary in friendship, though not in love: and suddenly, some day, friendship ends and love begins." "But not the highest kind of love," said Isabel. 66 No, not the highest, but, I believe, the happiest; the course of such true love more often runs smooth; and then the chances of happiness in married life are greater; for there must be such a thorough knowledge, and dependence, and confidence, in each other." Isabel sate thoughtfully. Her fingers were playing with some ornaments on the table, and her eyes were fixed earnestly, and yet vacantly, on the shapes and figures in which she placed them. She was thinking, not of Clarence, but of Herbert. She was asking herself, was not that the kind of love she felt for him. "You seem to admire that kind of love," she said, at last, without raising her eyes. For the first time it struck him that she might be thinking of herself and of him. "No, I don't," he said; "I only say it is happy. I like a higher kind of love than that; but then, the higher kind of love I can't but own to be more dangerous also." 66 Dangerous!" and Isabel lifted her eyes to his face. "Yes, dangerous. Is it not dangerous to feel love growing to worship-to idolatry? Is there not a danger," he said, with a smile, but a grave one, "of forgetting the first great commandment?" Still Isabel sate thoughtful. How little had it ever crossed her to fear that she loved Herbert too much! "Here is a description of something very like worship or idolatry," continued Clarence, taking up a book from the table. "I was reading it when you came into the room. Shall I read it to you?" and, with a low, melodious voice, and expressive manner, he read the following lines: Wouldst thou be mine, I'd love thee with such love, thou canst not dream How wide, how full, how deep-whose gracious beam Should on thy pathway ever shine. Wouldst thou be mine-I'd be As father, mother, friend, to thee; Whose ceaseless gladdening sunbeams play All this should be, wouldst thou But be mine own, mine only love, Wert thou but mine-Oh! could My voice some tone persuasive take, And in thy breast some answering passion wake, All life were light-but now My life is dark; and thou, and thou Is there no darkness in thy life? By love's dear power-wert thou but mine! The lines were only just finished when Mr. and Mrs. Denison came into the room. Isabel sate thoughtful still. What new and strange sensations were those which thrilled through her heart as he read? Alas, she knew not! The cloud upon her brow made Clarence's spirit bound with delight, and he said within himself that the time of his probation should be short. stood, with Mrs. Denison, in the cloak-room, while Clarence went for the carriage. A young man approached her. "Well, this is a sad night, Miss Denison; it's all over now. How sorry you must be !" Yes, I am rather sorry; what I dislike most is to say good-bye to so many people." "It must be so much worse for women than for men," continued the young man, compassionately; "we have hunting and shooting to look forward to, at any rate; you have nothing till next year." "I am sorry," said Isabel, smiling, “that |