One thing, however, is quite certain, he believed himself to be desperately in love, and comforted himself in much the same way as other mortals do under similar circumstances. “What is love?” The fevered head, the palpitating heart, the visions beautiful and young, clothing our every day in a transient paradise, when the voice is heard deliciously exulting, or weeping passionately loud into the pillowed night. Is this love? Slim girlhood answers yes. Or is it the interchange of soul and soul, of which all life is typical? A staff in the traveller’s hand, music to the soldier’s march. Ah, such is love, sweet love! Peace, as we have already seen, was a man of action. He was not one to beat about the bush, or let the grass grow under his feet, and in a very short time after his introduction to Mrs. Maitland and her charming daughter, he determined upon making a declaration to the latter of his undying and unfading love. He had before this presented Mrs. Maitland with a handsome timepiece, the frame of which was most elaborately and beautifully carved by his own hands. He had in his possession a ring set with diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones. This he purposed presenting to the daughter upon the first opportunity that occurred. The widow’s cottage stood on the outskirts of the town of Sheffield. In the rear of the habitation was a small but well-cultivated garden. In this, one fair spring morning, Aveline Maitland was to be seen. She was seated in an alcove, or summer-house, as it was termed, reading. Charles Peace, who had been watching her from the road, thought this a favourable opportunity. He unfastened the wicket gate by the side of the garden, and entered. His manner was soft and gentle. Taking off his hat, he paid his respects to the widow’s daughter, who rose from her seat and shook him by the hand. “Pardon me, Miss Maitland, for this intrusion upon your privacy; but I have that to say which cannot possibly remain any longer unsaid.” The young lady regarded the speaker with a look of surprise, and requested him to be seated. Peace proceeded. “In the first place, I have a favour to ask, which I hope――nay, I feel convinced――you will not refuse.” “What is its nature?” inquired his companion. “I wish you to accept this little present,” said he, drawing forth the ring; “to accept it as a token in remembrance of me.” “Sir!” exclaimed Aveline. “Mr. Peace, you greatly surprise me.” “You are not offended, I hope?” “No, certainly not. And I hope you will not be offended when I say I could not think of accepting it.” [Sidenote: No. 6.] [Illustration: PEACE’S ENCOUNTER WITH THE DOG “BRUNO.”] Peace’s brow darkened. To say the least of it, this was a bad beginning. He did not press the question. “Miss Maitland,” he said, in continuation, “you will, I hope, not object to hear what I have to say?” She signified, by an inclination of the head, that he might proceed.