Isabel felt pleased with the incident; two or three times during her visit to Mrs. Jones, she found herself thinking of it; haunted, almost unconsciously, by the stranger's bright, expressive smile.

Late in the afternoon, she walked home through the fields. The days were shortening, and the evenings generally chilly, but this was one of those soft autumn days which, perhaps from her Spanish blood, she peculiarly enjoyed. She wandered slowly on, and her mind reverted to a subject which was now often in her thoughts. It was one on which she felt she must very soon come to a decided opinion-whether or not she loved Herbert Grey? She had asked herself this question very often since Mr. Price's dinner, and the answer she received varied from time to time. She thought she did; she was almost sure she did; but still, sometimes, a doubt came over her; something within suggested, "Is this such love as I have read of? Would it break my heart if I thought he did not love me?" In his presence, indeed, every doubt died away.

But, when she was alone again, doubts would return; and, though her inward questionings almost always ended satisfactorily, in thinking that people were different, that all could not feel alike, that she certainly did love him; yet, day after day, "that restless thing, the human heart," would suggest that the point was still open for discussion. The day before this one, she had very much satisfied herself by looking backwards and forwards, seeing how changed her life was, how far brighter than it had been the year before; and, still more, by remarking how contentedly she could now look on to a future at Ellerton : and yet, again, as she now walked along, she was questioning and arguing with herself. The discussion was, however, soon interrupted by Herbert coming towards them. Her heart beat, and her cheeks glowed, and, as usual, doubts were forgotten.

"Are you going to Mr. Jones's?" she inquired, as they met.

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No, Miss Denison; I came to meet you." He looked thoughtful, and she trembled for what might be coming.

"How did you know that I was here?" she asked, smilingly.

"I met Miss Shepherd, who told me so; and gave me leave to come and meet you; otherwise"....he paused, and Isabel began talking very fast about her visit, and the children; but, to all she said, his answers were so short and distrait, that at last her powers were exhausted, and they walked on in silence.

At length he began. The tone of his voice told her at once what was coming; and why did her heart sink, and her pulse almost stand still within her? Did she, or did she not, love Herbert Grey?

"It is now more than three weeks since I promised that I would tell you my sad history, when you asked me for it. Has all interest died away within you? Shall you never think about it again?"

"If it is so painful," Isabel began, with hesitation....

"It is painful," he interrupted; "painful and sad; but is this the reason for your

silence? is it not rather that you

the condition I affixed?"

Isabel was silent.

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shrink from

Isabel," he continued, "why don't you answer me? But it is too late now to wait for an answer-you know, you must know well, how wildly, how passionately I love you; and you must hear me speak, and then...." He paused, and looked in her face. It was white as marble. Forgive me, Miss DeniI have been very wrong. I will tell you all calmly, if you will hear me. Will you hear me now, or shall it be for another time?"

son;

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It was really an effort to her to speak, but she did speak, and begged him to tell her all. He began again, in a low but calm voice.

"I have loved, Miss Denison, before now. Do not start," he said, observing a movement which sent a thrill of pleasure through his heart, as he fancied it might be a pang of jealousy. "I thought at that time that I loved as few could love, but now I find that even I knew it not."

With breathless interest Isabel listened to the tale he told-the tale of his love, of his hope, of his agony when forsaken. Breathless, agitated, she listened still, when he ended thus:

"It was no light thing to suffer this, the disappointment of every hope; but the suffer-1 ing itself was as nothing in comparison to the blight it cast upon me; the doubt in the truth of every human being under which 1 have now suffered for many years. Even you, Miss Denison, in whose face truth and purity are written even you at first I doubted. But it is passed-it is all passed. In your presence, better feelings have come back to me; and never, even under disappointment, will they leave me again. And now you know all, and all my happiness is in your hands." He tried to speak calmly, and paused as again he became agitated.

Isabel was silent still. If she could have known what her silence cost him, she would have spoken at once; but she dreamed not of the powerful emotions which were stirring