She stood for a moment like one transfixed, listening in an amazed wonder, then, undiscovered, she silently withdrew into deeper foliage. "Why draw away from me, Hazel?" went on Corway. "Because! You may not be sincere!" replied the girl, shyly. "Not sincere? Hazel, from the first moment that I beheld you I felt that I stood in the presence of my fate." "But, Mr. Corway,"--she returned, with that provoking smile still lurking about the corners of her pretty mouth--"don't you love any other?" "No," he softly replied. "Are you sure?" "Sure!" "Not even Virginia?" "I respect her, but do not love her--Oh, Hazel, do not keep me in suspense. Tell me you requite my love--promise to be mine, to cherish and protect forever"--and again he took her unresisting hand in his and drew her near him. "Well, this is so serious that--don't you think that I should have a little time to consider it?" Her face had taken on a half-serious look, but the little cloud was quickly chased away by a happy smile. Nor did it escape the eager eye of her sweet-heart. He saw that her hesitation was not to be taken seriously, and as a test he said in soft, tremulous accents: "Then the girl I would die for does not love me, does not care for me--" Turning half around to him, in a pleading and half-reproachful way, she tenderly emphasized: "Oh, I do love you, Joe, with all my heart." And throwing wide her arms, fell on his breast, with the joy of a maiden's first love flushing her face. And then their lips met--deep in the sweet intoxication of love's first confiding trust. "Thou perfect flower! To express the fullness of my heart would be impossible," he joyfully exclaimed. And thus, while pressing her hand on his shoulder and feeling a ring on her finger, he gently removed it. "Oh! that's Virginia's ring; that is, I got it from her," she protested feebly, her head pillowed on his breast. "It shall be a 'Mizpah' of trust, dearest, and shall come back to you with an engagement ring," he softly replied, as he slipped it into his vest pocket. In one of Virginia's happy girlish moments, she had picked up the ring from Constance's dressing table, and admiring its beauty, smilingly slipped it upon her own finger, with the owner's permission to wear it awhile, but with the injunction to "be careful not to lose it, dear, for I value it very highly. It was John's gift to me before we were married"--and then later, on that same day, with Hazel's arm clasping her waist and her own arm clasping Hazel's, the two happy girls strolling through the grounds--to have Hazel remove it in the same admiring fashion and slip it on her own finger, Virginia yielding to her young cousin, just as Constance, in perfect trust, yielded to her. And then in the morning, all forgetful of the ring, she left for the Valley farm.