scure home in a foreign country; but if love tried by years, by utter hopelessness, by what seemed change in yourself, and which yet but became more deep and more intense,—if such love can be security for your future, that future, Francesca, you will entrust to my care."
She said nothing, no colour rose into her pale soft cheek; but she looked up in his face, with her whole soul in her eyes, and extended her hands to him;—Evelyn caught them in his, and then clasped her tenderly to his heart. "To-morrow!" was the last word of each; and he sprang again into the thicket. Was ever music at once so sweet and so sad as the echo of his receding steps?
Francesca stood listening long after they were past. Slowly she returned towards the Castle, but how changed since last she trod that path! Her step was light, and a conscious smile played round her beautiful mouth, while the gladness of other days returned and lighted up her large black eyes. How querulous, how unfounded did her discontent now seem! The bright records of the last hour effaced all the darker traces left by long and weary days. It was a long-forgotten feeling the eager hope to which she resigned herself. With the active fancy of her sex and
