years, the fruition of which seemed now so near, and she should never know that it was a sacrifice. She was so dear to him! this incarnation of frolic, passion, and fancies; whimsical, varied, but all beautiful to him; she, whose eyes deepened, and softened, and glowed with the trembling cadence of those three words: "I love it!" He had never succeeded in telling Orrin why he loved her. His analysis of her character was imperfect and cold. But, for himself, he knew that she was the embodied glory of his life; that every ray which kept his heart warm and bright, with a very summer of gladness, could be traced to her—her love, and the influence the consciousness of this had upon his thoughts of the present and dreams of days to come.
"We will build one like it, in our own home," he began, enjoying, in the midst of his dread of the explanation that must be dallied with no longer, the crimson flush that always bathed her face at allusions to their marriage. "Orrin shall sketch it for me. He is a universal genius."
The gate swung open to admit a visitor, a farmer's lad, in whose attempts at self-education the young professor had taken lively interest.
"I found this in the field, on the other side of the mountain, to-day," he said, laying a bit of stone in Roy's hand. "I think there's ore in it."
Roy inspected it closely.
"Jessie, is your father in his study?"
"He is," she replied, eyeing the intruder less amiably than her lover had done, in the anticipation of the prolonged interruption.
"Mr. Kirke has an acid that will test this in a few moments," continued Fordham to the boy. "Will you excuse me for a little while?" turning to his betrothed, with a smile loving for herself, and entreating her patience for his protegé.
Her ill humor vanished instantly under the benignant ray.
"Certainly," she said, heartily, nodding cordially to the bashful lad.
"He is the noblest man God ever made!" she said, aloud, when she was alone.
"She sat, quietly enjoying the breeze from the mountains, the sunset clouds, the incense from the flower-garden, and the hum of the mill-wheel, mentally recapitulating her hero's perfections, until her heart swelled with happy sighs, and she saw the landscape through an iridescent haze.
"I am a baby!" was her indignant ejaculation, as she cleared her eyes with an impatient brush of her hand. I grow more ridiculous every day!"
As a means of growing wiser, she fell to watching her sister and Orrin Wyllys, who were busy tying up wandering rose branches in Eunice's pet labyrinth.
"Euna is handsome this Summer," she reflected, affectionately complacent. "That lawn with the forget-me-not sprig becomes her. But she wouldn't let me put those lily-buds in her hair! Her only fault is a tendency to primness. I am glad she and Mr. Wyllis get on so well together. He evidently admires her, and she likes to talk with him!"
Rambling on discursively, she struck upon an idea, too fraught with delightsome mischief not to urge her to immediate action. Eunice's face was not toward her, and Orrin was concealed by a tall shrub. The grassy alley leading from the porch to where they were standing would not give back the sound of footsteps. How frightened and amazed the careful elder would be, if she were to steal down the walk and present herself before her! How solemnly Orrin would look on while she submitted to be lectured for her imprudence, and how she, in the end, would triumph over her custodians, Roy included, who, by the
