I.

The first time I ever met Ernest Carvalho was just before the regimental

dance at Newcastle. I had ridden up the Port Royal mountains that same

morning from our decaying sugar estate in the Liguanca plain, and I was

to stop in cantonments with the Major's wife, fat little Mrs. Venn, who

had promised my mother that she would undertake to _chaperon_ me to this

my earliest military party. I won't deny that I looked forward to it

immensely, for I was then a girl of only eighteen, fresh out from school

in England, where I had been living away from our family ever since I

was twelve years old. Dear mamma was a Jamaican lady of the old school,

completely overpowered by the ingrained West Indian indolence; and if I

had waited to go to a dance till I could get her to accompany me, I

might have waited till Doomsday, or probably later. So I was glad enough

to accept fat little Mrs. Venn's proffered protection, and to go up the

hills on my sure-footed mountain pony; while Isaac, the black

stable-boy, ran up behind me carrying on his thick head the small

portmanteau that contained my plain white ball-dress.

As I went up the steep mountain-path alone--for ladies ride only with

such an unmounted domestic escort in Jamaica--I happened to overtake a

tall gentleman with a handsome rather Jewish face and a pair of

extremely lustrous black eyes, who was mounted on a beautiful chestnut

mare just in front of me. The horse-paths in the Port Royal mountains

are very narrow, being mere zigzag ledges cut half-way up the

precipitous green slopes of fern and club-moss, so that there is seldom

room for two horses to pass abreast, and it is necessary to wait at some

convenient corner whenever you see another rider coming in the opposite

direction. At the first opportunity the tall Jewish-looking gentleman

drew aside in such a corner, and waited for me to pass. "Pray don't

wait," I said, as soon as I saw what he meant; "your horse will get up

faster than my pony, and if I go in front I shall keep you back

unnecessarily."

"Not at all," he answered, raising his hat gracefully; "you are a

stranger in the hills, I see. It is the rule of these mountain-paths

always to give a lady the lead. If I go first and my mare breaks into a

canter on a bit of level, your pony will try to catch her up on the

steep slopes, and that is always dangerous."

Seeing he did not intend to move till I did, I waived the point at last

and took the lead. From that moment I don't know what on earth came over

my lazy old pony. He refused to go at more than a walk, or at best a

jog-trot, the whole way to Newcastle. Now the rise from the plain to the

cantonments is about four thousand feet, I think (I am a dreadfully bad

hand at remembering figures), and the distance can't be much less, I

suppose, than seven miles. During all that time you never see a soul,

except a few negro pickaninnies playing in the dustheaps, not a human

habitation, except a few huts embowered in mangoes, hibiscus-bushes, and

tree-ferns. At first we kept a decorous silence, not having been

introduced to one another; but the stranger's mare followed close at my

pony's heels, pull her in as he would, and it seemed really too

ridiculous to be solemnly pacing after one another, single file, in

this way for a couple of hours, without speaking a word, out of pure

punctiliousness. So at last we broke the ice, and long before we got to

Newcastle we had struck up quite an acquaintance with one another. It is

wonderful how well two people can get mutually known in the course of

two hours' _tete-a-tete_, especially under such peculiar circumstances.

You are just near enough to one another for friendly chat, and yet not

too near for casual strangers. And then Isaac with the portmanteau

behind was quite sufficient escort to satisfy the _convenances_. In

England, one's groom would have to be mounted, which always seems to me,

in my simplicity, a distinction without a difference.

Mr. Carvalho was on his way up to Newcastle on the same errand as

myself, to go to the dance. He might have been twenty, I suppose; and,

to a girl of eighteen, boys of twenty seem quite men already. He was a

clerk in a Government Office in Kingston, and was going to stop with a

sub at Newcastle for a week or two, on leave. I did not know much about

men in those days, but I needed little knowledge of the subject to tell

me that Ernest Carvalho was decidedly clever. As soon as the first chill

wore off our conversation, he kept me amused the whole way by his bright

sketchy talk about the petty dignitaries of a colonial capital. There

was his Excellency for the time being, and there was the Right Reverend

of that day, and there was the Honourable Colonial Secretary, and there

was the Honourable Director of Roads, and there were a number of other

assorted Honourables, whose queer little peculiarities he hit off

dexterously in the quaintest manner. Not that there was any unkindly

satire in his brilliant conversation; on the contrary, he evidently

liked most of the men he talked about, and seemed only to read and

realize their characters so thoroughly that they spoke for themselves in

his dramatic anecdotes. He appeared to me a more genial copy of

Thackeray in a colonial society, with all the sting gone, and only the

skilful delineation of men and women left. I had never met anybody

before, and I have never met anybody since, who struck me so

instantaneously with the idea of innate genius as Ernest Carvalho.

"You have been in England, of course," I said, as we were nearing

Newcastle.

"No, never," he answered; "I am a Jamaican born and bred, I have never

been out of the island."

I was surprised, for he seemed so different from any of the young

planters I had met at our house, most of whom had never opened a book,

apparently, in the course of their lives, while Mr. Carvalho's talk was

full of indefinite literary flavour. "Where were you educated, then?" I

asked.

"I never was educated anywhere," he answered, laughing. "I went to a

small school at Port Antonio during my father's life, but for the most

part I have picked up whatever I know (and that's not much) wholly by

myself. Of course French, like reading and writing, comes by nature, and

I got enough Spanish to dip into Cervantes from the Cuban refugees.

Latin one has to grind up out of books, naturally; and as for Greek, I'm

sorry to say I know very little, though, of course, I can spell out

Homer a bit, and even AEschylus. But my hobby is natural science, and

there a fellow has to make his own way here, for hardly anything has

been done at the beasts and the flowers in the West Indies yet. But if I

live, I mean to work them up in time, and I've made a fair beginning

already."

This reasonable list of accomplishments, given modestly, not boastfully,

by a young man of twenty, wholly self-taught, fairly took my breath

away. I was inspired at once with a secret admiration for Mr. Carvalho.

He was so handsome and so clever that I think I was half-inclined to

fall in love with him at first sight. To say the truth, I believe almost

all love _is_ love at first sight; and for my own part, I wouldn't give

you a thank-you for any other kind.

"Here we must part," he said, as we reached a fork in the narrow path

just outside the steep hog's back on which Newcastle stands, "unless you

will allow me to see you safely as far as Mrs. Venn's. The path to the

right leads to the Major's quarters; this on the left takes me to my

friend Cameron's hut. May I see you to the Major's door?"

"No, thank you," I answered decidedly; "Isaac is escort enough. We shall

meet again this evening."

"Perhaps then," he suggested, "I may have the pleasure of a dance with

you. Of course it's quite irregular of me to ask you now, but we shall

be formally introduced no doubt to-night, and I'm afraid if you lunch at

the Venns' your card will be filled up by the 99th men before I can edge

myself in anywhere for a dance. Will you allow me?"

"Certainly," I said; "what shall it be? The first waltz?"

"You are very kind," he answered, taking out a pencil. "You know my

name--Carvalho; what may I put down for yours? I haven't heard it yet."

"Miss Hazleden," I replied, "of Palmettos."

Mr. Carvalho gave a little start of surprise. "Miss Hazleden of

Palmettos," he said half to himself, with a rather pained expression.

"Miss Hazleden! Then, perhaps, I'd better--well, why not? why not,

indeed? Palmettos--Yes, I will." Turning to me, he said, louder, "Thank

you; till this evening, then;" and, raising his hat, he hurried sharply

round the corner of the hill.

What was there in my name, I wondered, which made him so evidently

hesitate and falter?

Fat little Mrs. Venn was very kind, and not a very strict _chaperon_,

but I judged it best not to mention to her this romantic episode of the

handsome stranger. However, during the course of lunch, I ventured

casually to ask her husband whether he knew of any family in Jamaica of

the name of Carvalho.

"Carvalho," answered the Major, "bless my soul, yes. Old settled family

in the island; Jews; live down Savannah-la-Mar way; been here ever since

the Spanish time; doocid clever fellows, too, and rich, most of them."

"Jews," I thought; "ah, yes, Mr. Carvalho had a very handsome Jewish

type of face and dark eyes; but, why, yes, surely I heard him speak

several times of having been to church, and once of the Cathedral at

Spanish Town. This was curious."

"Are any of them Christians?" I asked again.

"Not a man," answered the Major; "not a man, my dear. Good old Jewish

family; Jews in Jamaica never turn Christians; nothing to gain by it."

The dance took place in the big mess-room, looking out on the fan-palms

and tree-ferns of the regimental garden. It was a lovely tropical night,

moonlight of course, for all Jamaican entertainments are given at full

moon, so as to let the people who ride from a distance get to and fro

safely over the breakneck mountain horse-paths. The windows, which open

down to the ground, were flung wide for the sake of ventilation; and

thus the terrace and garden were made into a sort of vestibule where

partners might promenade and cool themselves among the tropical flowers

after the heat of dancing. And yet, I don't know how it is, though the

climate is so hot in Jamaica, I never danced anywhere so much or felt

the heat so little oppressive.

Before the first waltz, Mr. Carvalho came up, accompanied by my old

friend Dr. Wade, and was properly introduced to me. By that time my card

was pretty full, for of course I was a belle in those days, and being

just fresh out from England was rather run after. But I will confess

that I had taken the liberty of filling in three later waltzes

(unasked) with Mr. Carvalho's name, for I knew by his very look that he

could waltz divinely, and I do love a good partner. He did waltz

divinely, but at the end of the dance I was really afraid he didn't mean

to ask me again. When he did, a little hesitatingly, I said I had still

three vacancies, and found he had not yet asked anybody else. I enjoyed

those four dances more than any others that evening, the more so,

perhaps, as I saw my cousin, Harry Verner of Agualta, was dying with

jealousy because I danced so much with Mr. Carvalho.

I must just say a word or two about Harry Verner. He was a planter _pur

sang_, and Agualta was one of the few really flourishing sugar estates

then left on the island. Harry was, therefore, naturally regarded as

rather a catch; but, for my part, I could never care for any man who has

only three subjects of conversation--himself, vacuum-pan sugar, and the

wickedness of the French bounty system, which keeps the poor planter out

of his own. So I danced away with Mr. Carvalho, partly because I liked

him just a little, you know, but partly, also, I will frankly admit,

because I saw it annoyed Harry Verner.

At the end of our fourth dance, I was strolling with Mr. Carvalho among

the great bushy poinsettias and plumbagos on the terrace, under the

beautiful soft green light of that tropical moon, when Harry Verner came

from one of the windows directly upon us. "I suppose you've forgotten,

Edith," he said, "that you're engaged to me for the next lancers. Mr.

Carvalho, I know you are to dance with Miss Wade; hadn't you better go

and look for your partner?"

He spoke pointedly, almost rudely, and Mr. Carvalho took the hint at

once. As soon as he was gone, Harry turned round to me fiercely and said

in a low angry voice, "You shall not dance this lancers, you shall sit

it out with me here in the garden; come over to the seat in the far

corner."

He led me resistlessly to the seat, away from the noise of the

regimental band and the dancers, and then sat himself down at the far

end from me, like a great surly bear that he was.

"A pretty fool you've been making of yourself to-night, Edith," he said

in a tone of suppressed anger, "with that fellow Carvalho. Do you know

who he is, miss? Do you know who he is?"

"No," I answered faintly, fearing he was going to assure me that my

clever new acquaintance was a notorious swindler or a runaway

ticket-of-leave man.

"Well, then, I'll tell you," he cried angrily. "I'll tell you. He's a

coloured man, miss! that's what he is."

"A coloured man?" I exclaimed in surprise; "why, he's as white as you

and I are, every bit as white, Harry."

"So he may be, to look at," answered my cousin; "but a brown man's a

brown man, all the same, however much white blood he may have in him;

you can never breed the nigger out. Confound his impudence, asking you

to dance four times with him in a single evening! You, too, of all girls

in the island! Confound his impudence! Why, his mother was a slave girl

once on Palmettos estate!"

"Oh, Harry, you don't mean to say so," I cried, for I was West Indian

enough in my feelings to have a certain innate horror of coloured blood,

and I was really shocked to think I had been so imprudent as to dance

four times with a brown man.

"Yes, I do mean it, miss," he answered; "an octaroon slave girl, and

Carvalho's her son by old Jacob Carvalho, a Jew merchant at the back of

the island, who was fool enough to go and actually marry her. So now you

see what a pretty mess you've gone and been and made of it. We shall

have it all over Kingston to-morrow, I suppose, that Miss Hazleden, a

Hazleden and a Verner, has been flirting violently with a bit of

coloured scum off her own grandfather's estate at Palmettos. A nice

thing for the family, indeed!"

"But, Harry," I said, pleading, "he's such a perfect gentleman in his

manners and conversation, so very much superior to a great many Jamaican

young men."

"Hang it all, miss," said Harry--he used a stronger expression, for he

was not particular about swearing before ladies, but I won't transcribe

all his oaths--"hang it all, that's the way of you girls who have been

to England. If I had fifty daughters I'd never send one of 'em home, not

I. You go over there, and you get enlightened, as you call it, and you

learn a lot of radical fal-lal about equality and a-man-and-a-brother,

and all that humbug: and then you come back and despise your own people,

who are gentlemen and the sons of gentlemen for fifty generations, from

the good old slavery days onward. I wish we had them here again, I do,

and I'd tie up that fellow Carvalho to a horse-post and flog him with a

cow-hide within an inch of his life."

I was too much accustomed to Harry's manners to make any protest against

this vigorous suggestion of reprisals. I took his arm quietly. "Let us

go back into the ballroom, Harry," I said as persuasively as I was able,

for I loathed the man in my heart, "and for heaven's sake don't make a

scene about it. If there is anything on earth I detest, it's scenes."

Next morning I felt rather feverish, and dear fat little Mrs. Venn was

quite frightened about me. "If you go down again to Liguanca with this

fever on you, my dear," she said, "you'll get yellow Jack as soon as you

are home again. Better write and ask your mamma to let you stop a

fortnight with us here."

I consented, readily enough, for, of course, no girl of eighteen ever in

her heart objects to military society, and the 99th were really very

pleasant well-intentioned young fellows. But I made up my mind that if I

stayed I would take particular care to see no more of Mr. Carvalho. He

was very clever, very fascinating, very nice, but then--he was a brown

man! That was a bar that no West Indian girl could ever be expected to

get over.

As ill-luck would have it, however--I write as I then felt--about three

days after, Mrs. Venn said to me, "I've invited Mr. Cameron, one of our

sub-lieutenants, to dine this evening, and I've had to invite his guest,

young Carvalho, as well. By the way, Edie, if I were you, I wouldn't

talk quite so much as you did the other evening to Mr. Carvalho. You

know, dear, though he doesn't look it, he's a brown man."

"I didn't know it," I answered, "till the end of the evening, and then

Harry Verner told me. I wouldn't have danced with him more than once if

I'd known it."

"Wonderful how that young fellow has managed to edge himself into

society," said the major, looking up from his book; "devilish odd. Son

of old Jacob Carvalho: Jacob left him all his coin, not very much;

picked up his ABC somewhere or other; got into Government service; asked

to Governor's dances; goes everywhere now. Can't understand it."

"Well, my dear," says Mrs. Venn, "why do we ask him ourselves?"

"Because we can't help it," says the major, testily. "Cameron goes and

picks him up; ought to be in the Engineers, Cameron; too doocid clever

for the line and for this regiment. Always picks up some astronomer

fellow, or some botanist fellow, or some fellow who understands

fortification or something. Competitive examination's ruin of the

service. Get all sorts of people into the regiment now. Believe Cameron

himself lives upon his pay almost, hanged if I don't."

That evening, Mr. Carvalho came, and I liked him better than ever. Mr.

Cameron, who was a brother botanist and a nice ingenuous young

Highlander, made him bring his portfolio of Jamaica ferns and flowers,

the loveliest things I ever saw--dried specimens and water-colour

sketches to accompany them of the plants themselves as they grew

naturally. He told us all about them so enthusiastically, and of how he

used to employ almost all his holidays in the mountains hunting for

specimens. "I'm afraid the fellows at the office think me a dreadful

muff for it," he said, "but I can't help it, it's born in me. My mother

is a descendant of Sir Hans Sloane's, who lived here for several

years--the founder of the British Museum, you know--and all her family

have always had a taste for bush, as the negroes call it. You know, a

good many mulatto people have the blood of able English families in

their veins, and that accounts, I believe, for their usual high average

of general intelligence."

I was surprised to hear him speak so unaffectedly of his ancestry on the

wrong side of the house, for most light coloured people studiously avoid

any reference to their social disabilities. I liked him all the better,

however, for the perfect frankness with which he said it. If only he

hadn't been a brown man, now! But there, you can't get over those

fundamental race prejudices.

Next morning, as the Major and I were out riding, we came again across

Mr. Cameron and Mr. Carvalho. Fate really seemed determined to throw us

together. We were going to the Fern Walk to gather gold and silver

ferns, and Mr. Carvalho was bound in the same direction, to look for

some rare hill-top flowers. At the Walk we dismounted, and, while the

two officers went hunting about among the bush, Mr. Carvalho and I sat

for a while upon a big rock in the shade of a mountain palm. The

conversation happened to come round to somewhat the same turn as it had

taken the last evening.

"Yes," said Mr Carvalho, in answer to a question of mine, "I do think

that mulattos and quadroons are generally cleverer than the average run

of white people. You see, mixture of race evidently tends to increase

the total amount of brain power. There are peculiar gains of brain on

the one side, and other peculiar gains, however small, on the other; and

the mixture, I fancy, tends to preserve or increase both. That is why

the descendants of Huguenots in England, and the descendants of Italians

in France, show generally such great ability."

"Then you yourself ought to be an example," I said, "for your name seems

to be Spanish or Portuguese."

"Spanish and Jewish," he answered, laughing, "though I didn't mean to

give a side-puff to myself. Yes, I am of very mixed race indeed. On my

father's side I am Jewish, though of course the Jews acknowledge nobody

who isn't a pure-blooded descendant of Abraham in both lines; and for

that reason I have been brought up a Christian. On my mother's side I am

partly negro, partly English, partly Haitian French, and, through the

Sloanes, partly Dutch as well. So you see I am a very fair mixture."

"And that accounts," I said, "for your being so clever."

He blushed and bowed a little demure bow, but said nothing.

It's no use fighting against fate, and during all that fortnight I did

nothing but run up against Mr. Carvalho. Wherever I went, he was sure to

be; wherever I was invited, he was invited to meet me. The fact is, I

had somehow acquired the reputation of being a clever girl, and, as Mr.

Cameron was by common consent the clever man of his regiment, it was

considered proper that he (and by inference his guest) should be always

asked to entertain me. The more I saw of Mr. Carvalho the better I liked

him. He was so clever, and yet so simple and unassuming, that one

couldn't help admiring and sympathizing with him. Indeed, if he hadn't

been a brown man, I almost think I should have fallen in love with him

outright.

At the end of a fortnight I went back to Palmettos. A few days after,

who should come to call but old General Farquhar, and with him, of all

men in the world, Mr. Carvalho! Mamma was furious. She managed to be

frigidly polite as long as they stopped, but when they were gone she

went off at once into one of her worst nervous crisises (that's not the

regular plural, I'm sure, but no matter). "I know his mother when she

was a slave of your grandfather's," she said; "an upstanding proud

octaroon girl, who thought herself too good for her place because she

was nearly a white woman. She left the estate immediately after that

horrid emancipation, to keep a school of brown girls in Kingston. And

then she had the insolence to go and get actually married at church to

old Jacob Carvalho! Just like those brown people. Their grandmothers

never married." For poor mamma always made it a subject of reproach

against the respectable coloured folk that they tried to live more

decently and properly than their ancestors used to do in slavery times.

Mr. Carvalho never came to Palmettos again, but whenever I went to

Kingston to dances I met him, and in spite of mamma I talked to him too.

One day I went over to a ball at Government House, and there I saw both

him and Harry Verner. For the first time in my life I had two proposals

made me, and on the same night. Harry Verner's came first.

"Edie," he said to me, between the dances, as we were strolling out in

the gardens, West Indian fashion, "I often think Agualta is rather

lonely. It wants a lady to look after the house, while I'm down looking

after the cane pieces. We made the best return in sugar of any estate on

the island, last year, you know; but a man can't subsist entirely on

sugar. He wants sympathy and intellectual companionship." (This was

quite an effort for Harry.) "Now, I've not been in a hurry to get

married. I've waited till I could find some one whom I could thoroughly

respect and admire as well as love. I've looked at all the girls in

Jamaica, before making my choice, and I've determined not to be guided

by monetary considerations or any other considerations except those of

the affections and of real underlying goodness and intellect. I feel

that you are the one girl I have met who is far and away my superior in

everything worth living for, Edie; and I'm going to ask you whether you

will make me proud and happy for ever by becoming the mistress of

Agualta."

I felt that Harry was really conceding so very much to me, and honouring

me so greatly by offering me a life partnership in that flourishing

sugar-estate, that it really went to my heart to have to refuse him. But

I told him plainly I could not marry him because I did not love him.

Harry seemed quite surprised at my refusal, but answered politely that

perhaps I might learn to love him hereafter, that he would not be so

foolish as to press me further now, and that he would do his best to

deserve my love in future. And with that little speech he led me back to

the ballroom, and handed me over to my next partner.

Later on in the evening, Mr. Carvalho too, with an earnest look in his

handsome dark eyes, asked leave to take me for a few turns in the

garden. We sat down on a bench under the great mango tree, and he began

to talk to me in a graver fashion than usual.

"Your mother was annoyed, I fear, Miss Hazleden," he said, "that I

should call at Palmettos."

"To tell you the truth," I answered, "I think she was."

"I was afraid she would be--I knew she would be, in fact; and for that

very reason I hesitated to do it, as I hesitated to dance with you the

first time I met you, as soon as I knew who you really were. But I felt

I ought to face it out. You know by this time, no doubt, Miss Hazleden,

that my mother was once a slave on your grandfather's estate. Now, it is

a theory of mine--a little Quixotic, perhaps, but still a theory of

mine--that the guilt and the shame of slavery lay with the slave-owners

(forgive me if I must needs speak against your own class), and not with

the slaves or their descendants. We have nothing on earth to be ashamed

of. Thinking thus, I felt it incumbent upon me to call at Palmettos,

partly in defence of my general principles, and partly also because I

wished to see whether you shared your mother's ideas on that subject."

"You were quite right in what you did, Mr. Carvalho," I answered; "and I

respect you for the boldness with which you cling to what you think your

duty."

"Thank you, Miss Hazleden," he answered, "you are very kind. Now, I wish

to speak to you about another and more serious question. Forgive my

talking about myself for a moment; I feel sure you have kindly

interested yourself in me a little. I too am proud of my birth, in my

way, for I am the son of an honest able man and of a tender true woman.

I come on one side from the oldest and greatest among civilized races,

the Jews; and on the other side from many energetic English, French, and

Dutch families whose blood I am vain enough to prize as a precious

inheritance even though it came to me through the veins of an octaroon

girl. I have lately arrived at the conclusion that it is not well for me

to remain in Jamaica. I cannot bear to live in a society which will not

receive my dear mother on the same terms as it receives me, and will not

receive either of us on the same terms as it receives other people. We

are not rich, but we are well enough off to go to live in England; and

to England I mean soon to go."

"I am glad and sorry to hear it," I said. "Glad, because I am sure it is

the best thing for your own happiness, and the best opening for your

great talents; sorry, because there are not many people in Jamaica

whose society I shall miss so much."

"What you say encourages me to venture a little further. When I get to

England, I intend to go to Cambridge, and take a degree there, so as to

put myself on an equality with other educated people. Now, Miss

Hazleden, I am going to ask you something which is so great a thing to

ask that it makes my heart tremble to ask it. I know no man on earth,

least of all myself, dare think himself fit for you, or dare plead his

own cause before you without feeling his own unworthiness and pettiness

of soul beside you. Yet just because I know how infinitely better and

nobler and higher you are than I am, I cannot resist trying, just once,

whether I may not hope that perhaps you will consider my appeal, and

count my earnestness to me for righteousness. I have watched you and

listened to you and admired you till in spite of myself I have not been

able to refrain from loving you. I know it is madness; I know it is

yearning after the unattainable; but I cannot help it. Oh, don't answer

me too soon and crush me, but consider whether perhaps in the future you

might not somehow at some time think it possible."

He leaned forward towards me in a supplicating attitude. At that moment

I loved him with all the force of my nature. Yet I dared not say so. The

spectre of the race-prejudice rose instinctively like a dividing wall

between my heart and my lips. "Mr. Carvalho," I said, "take me back to

my seat. You must not talk so, please."

"One minute, Miss Hazleden," he went on passionately; "one minute, and

then I will be silent for ever. Remember, we might live in England, far

away from all these unmeaning barriers. I do not ask you to take me now,

and as I am; I will do all I can to make myself more worthy of you. Only

let me hope; don't answer me no without considering it. I know how

little I deserve such happiness; but if you will take me, I will live

all my life for no other purpose than to make you see that I am striving

to show myself grateful for your love. Oh, Miss Hazleden, do listen to

me."

I felt that in another moment I should yield; I could have seized his

outstretched hands then, and told him that I loved him, but I dared not.

"Mr. Carvalho," I said, "let us go back now. I will write to you

to-morrow." He gave me his arm with a deep breath, and we went back

slowly to the music.

"Edith," said my mother sharply, when I got home that night, "Harry has

been here, and I know two things. He has proposed to you and you have

refused him, I'm certain of that; and the other thing is, that young

Carvalho has been insolent enough to make you an offer."