Upon such slight threads often do our dearest hopes hang! Bessie, yielding to the weak impulse, to play off confidence for confidence, said, 'Never mind those, George. I want to ask you something first.' At this moment the sound of music came to them, and the waits commenced to play the dear old air of 'Home, sweet home.' 'That's Saul's doing,' thought George. 'Good fellow! What will become of him during the time I am away?' As he and Bessie stood linked in a close embrace, the soft strains floated through the air into their hearts. 'There shall be no secrets between us, George, in our own home, sweet home!' 'None, darling.' 'And you'll not be angry with me for saying something?' 'What can my dear girl say to make me angry? and at such a time!' 'Then tell me, George--about Tottie.' 'The dear little thing! What about her, dearest?' 'George, is she an orphan?' How long seemed the interval before he replied! Tick--tick--tick--went the clock, so slowly! O, so slowly, now! 'No, Bessie.' How strangely his voice sounded! But he held her closer to him, and she had no power to free herself from his embrace. Indeed, she would have fallen had he loosed her. 'Do not be angry with me, George,' she whispered, slowly and painfully. 'She has a father living?' Another long, long pause, and then, 'Yes,' from George, in the same strange tone. 'Tell me his name, George.' He held her from him suddenly, and with his hands upon her shoulders, looked her steadily in the face. But her eyes drooped in the light of his earnest gaze. 'I cannot, Bessie,' he said; 'I must not. When we are married I will tell you all. There shall be no secrets between us in our home, sweet home. Till then, be satisfied.' Softer came the dear old air to Bessie's ears. But the tenderer meaning in it was gone for her. She turned from her lover petulantly. 'I did not think you would refuse me this, George.' Wiser, stronger, than she, he said, 'Do not let this trivial matter come between us, my dear;' and would have taken her to his heart again, but she did not meet him as before. 'This trivial matter!' Was he so lost to honour and to love for her? Something of her mind he saw in her face, and it made his blood hot. 'Good God,' he thought, 'is it possible she suspects me?' Then he strove to soothe her, but she would not be soothed. She said but little now; but her face was white with misery; doubt tore at the wound in her heart. She knew the pain she was inflicting upon him by the pain she felt herself. But she could not yield; she could not say, 'I know you are true to me. I will be satisfied, and will wait.' So his efforts were vain, and two o'clock struck, and their agony was not over. The tolling of the bell, however, brought to him the picture of his father and mother waiting up at home for him. 'I _must_ go,' he said hurriedly. 'Good-bye, dear Bessie, and God bless you! Trust to me, and believe that no girl ever had more faithful lover.'