And the two fell to thinking just what was remarked a few lines back, namely, that the human heart is very wicked; they were shocked at themselves; the young often are. Miss Bussey awoke, sat up, evicted the cat, and found her spectacles. "Where are those children?" said she. "Billing and cooing somewhere, I suppose. Bless me, why don't they get tired of it?" They had--not indeed of billing and cooing in general, for no one at their age does or ought to get tired of that--but of billing and cooing with one another. It will be observed that the situation promised well for a tragedy. Nevertheless this is not the story of an unhappy marriage. If there be one thing which Government should forbid, it is a secret engagement. Engagements should be advertised as marriages are; but unless we happen to be persons of social importance, or considerable notoriety, no such precautions are taken. Of course there are engagement rings; but a man never knows one when he sees it on a lady's hand--it would indeed be impertinent to look too closely--and when he goes out alone he generally puts his in his pocket, considering that the evening will thus be rendered more enjoyable. The Ashforth--Travers engagement was not a secret now, but it had been, and had been too long. Hence, when Mary went to Scotland and met Charlie Ellerton, and when John went to Switzerland and met Dora Bellairs-the truth is, they ought never to have separated, and Miss Bussey (who was one of the people in the secret) had been quite right when she remarked that it seemed a curious arrangement. John and Mary had scoffed at the idea of a few weeks' absence having any effect on their feelings except, if indeed it were possible, that of intensifying them. "I really think I ought to go and find them," said Miss Bussey. "Come, Paul!" She took a parasol, for the April sun was bright, and went into the garden. "When she came to the drawing-room window John was away at the end of the walk. She looked at him: he was reading a letter. She looked in at the window: Mary was reading a letter. "Well!" exclaimed Miss Bussey. "Have they had a tiff?" And she slowly waddled (truth imposes this word-she was very stout) toward the unconscious John. He advanced toward her still reading; not only did he not see her, but he failed to notice that Paul had got under his feet. He fell over Paul, and as he stumbled the letter fluttered out of his hand. Paul seized it and began to toss it about in great glee. "Good doggie!" Cried Miss Bussey. "Come then! Bring it to me, dear. Good Paul!" John's face was distorted with agony. He darted toward Paul, fell on him, and gripped him closely. Paul yelped and Miss Bussey observed, in an indignant tone, that John need not throttle the dog. John muttered something. "Is the letter so very precious?" asked his hostess ironically. "Precious!" cried John. "Yes!--No!--It's nothing at all." But he opened Paul's mouth and took out his treasure with wonderful care.