Isabel Leicester. Maude Alma

thinking I fear, that my attentions (to use a common phrase) meant nothing, but that is not the case, I am not one of those, who merely to gratify their own vanity, would endeavor to win affection, which they do not—cannot return. No dearest, I love you truly, unalterably—will you then accept my love, and give me the right and the inexpressibly pleasure to share all your joys and sorrows. Tell me dear Isabel, will you be my wife."

      She was trembling—almost gasping, and he would have aided her with his supporting arm, but she sank away from him sobbing "It can never, never be."

      "Why do you say that Isabel," he asked reproachfully, while the expression of his countenance became that of unmitigated sorrow.

      "Even could I return your affection," she answered more calmly, "It would not be right to accept you under the circumstances. Your parents would consider, that as their governess, I ought to know my duty better."

      "What difference could your being the governess make," he asked.

       "Every difference in their opinion."

      "But as I am the only son, of course they would raise no objection."

      "That makes it the more certain that they would do so," she replied.

      "Oh! Isabel" he exclaimed passionately, "do not reason in this cool way, when my whole life will be happy or miserable as you make it. I am not changeable, I shall not cease to love you while I live."

      "Oh! do not say that I have so much influence upon your happiness Mr. Arlington," returned Isabel much affected. "You must not think of me otherwise than as a friend, a kind friend—a dear friend if you will, but I can never be anything more."

      "Oh! Isabel, dear Isabel, do not refuse me thus, you do not know, indeed you do not, how true a heart you are crushing, what fervent love you are rejecting. Only let me hope that time may change your feelings."

      "Do not think that I undervalue the love you offer, but it is impossible—quite impossible that we can ever be more to each other than at present. I would not raise false hopes or allow you to indulge them. I do not, cannot return your affections, I can never be your wife, it is utterly impossible."

      "You love another Isabel, else why impossible. Perhaps, even now you are the promised bride of another, tell me if this is the case," he said tho' his voice faltered.

      "You are presuming Mr. Arlington, you have no right to ask this question," she replied with glowing cheeks.

      "Pardon me if I have offended," he said.

      "I think that this interview has lasted long enough—too long in fact. I will now join the children if you please."

      "One moment more, say that we do not part in anger."

      "In anger, no, we are good friends I trust," she answered, smiling very sweetly.

      "My dream of happiness is over," he said sadly, almost tearfully as he took her offered hand.

      Isabel had some difficulty in finding the children on such a wild place. When she did so, she found Arthur and Louisa with them. Louisa was looking bright and animated, very different to what she had done during dinner, and was laughing and joining in the general conversation.

      "We are taking Mr. Barrington and Louisa to the bower," cried Rose as they drew near.

      "I'm afraid we shall be rather late," answered Isabel.

      "But you surely wouldn't have us return without seeing this wonderful bower, after undergoing all this fatigue," inquired Arthur.

      "Certainly not, but I would rather be excused climbing up there again to-day. I will wait here until you come back." returned Isabel.

      "Where is Everard." asked Alice.

      "I left him at the bower,"

      "I think I will wait with Miss Leicester," said Amy, "I'm so very tired."

      "Yes do," cried Rose, "for then we shall not be half so long gone."

      Isabel sat down on the lovely green sward, and the tired child reclined beside her. Amy was so thoroughly worn out that she lay perfectly quiet, and Isabel was left to her own reflections, and these were by no means pleasant. Her conversation with Everard had cast a gloom over her spirits, she no longer took pleasure in the ramble or in the beautiful scenery around her, all the brightness of the day was gone, and why, he was not the first rejected suitor, but she had never felt like this with regard to the others. But then she had been the rich Miss Leicester, and it was so easy to imagine that she was courted for her wealth, but in the present instance it was different. Nothing but true disinterested love could have prompted him, and she felt hurt and grieved to think that she was the object of such warm affection to one who she esteemed so highly, when her affections were already engaged. She had seen how deeply her answer pained him, yet had not dared to answer his question. Could she tell him what she had not dared to reveal to her dying father? No; tho' could she have done so, it might have made it easier for Everard to forget her. When they reached the place of rendezvous, they found the rest of the party including Everard, already assembled, and Peter was declaring that it was utterly impossible to return without having some refreshments, after the immense fatigue they had all undergone in exploring the beauties of the surrounding country. Most of the party were of the same opinion, so forthwith he and Bob Mornington proceeded to ransack the hampers, and distributed the contents in the most primitive manner imaginable, to the amusement of the company generally, and to the extreme disgust of Grace Arlington in particular. And then there was a general move to the carriages. After they arrived at Elm Grove, Lady Ashton insisted upon Louisa returning to the park at once. Several voices were raised in her behalf, but in vain, Lady Ashton was inexorable, and telling Louisa to say good bye to Mrs. Arlington, she hurried her away, and desired Sunmers the coachman to drive Miss Aubray home and return for her at twelve.

      Arthur followed and remonstrated.

      "Arthur, say no more," returned Lady Ashton decisively. "I consider you took a great liberty in bringing her, and I will not allow her to remain."