He did not answer. My flights of fancy won no response from his graver mood; the dazzling brightness of the deep blue sky, the green freshness of the fields, seemed lost upon him, lost the charm and sweetness of the day. But even his unusual seriousness could not subdue the buoyancy and life which I felt rising within me. My blood flowed, as it only flows in youth or in spring, light, warm and rapid, making of every sensation a brief delight, of every aspect and change of nature an exquisite enjoyment, tempered with that under-current of subtle pain which runs through over-wrought emotions, and subdues at their very highest pitch the sweetest and purest joys of mortal sense. I walked on, like one in a dream, scarcely heeding where we went. At length Cornelius stopped, and said: "Shall we not rest here awhile?" We stood in that green and lonely nook, by the banks of the quiet stream where we had once lingered through the hours of a summer noon. It so chanced that though we had since then often passed by the spot, we had never made it our resting-place. The thought of once more spending here an hour or two was pleasant. I took off my bonnet and suspended it from the branches of the willow; I sat again beneath it; Cornelius unconsciously took the very attitude in which I remembered him--half reclining on the bank, with his brow resting on the palm of his hand. The same bending trees above, with their glimpses of blue sky; the same clear stream flowing on, with its silent world below, and its green wilderness beyond; the same murmur of low and broken sounds around us; the same sweet sense of freshness and solitude made past weeks seem like one unbroken summer day. I felt that sitting there, I could forget how quickly pass on hours, how rapid is the course of time. "Daisy!" suddenly said Cornelius, looking up, "how is it you do not ask me what I had to tell you last night?" "I had forgotten all about it," I answered, smiling, "What is it, Cornelius?" He did not reply at once, but again taking my hands in his, he looked at me so sadly, that my heart sank within me. "Cornelius," I exclaimed, "you have not news--of--Kate?" "No," he quickly replied, "I have sad news for you, my poor child; but Kate is well." "What is it then? What is it, Cornelius? Has she lost her money? Is the house burned down? What is it?" "Nothing like this, Daisy; you would never guess--1 must tell you. God alone knows how hard I find it. Daisy, we are going to part." My arms fell down powerless; I did not speak; I did not weep; I was stunned with the blow. An expression full of trouble and remorse passed over his face. "What have I done?" he exclaimed in an agitated tone, "I wished to spare you until the last moment. Oh! Daisy, for God's sake do not look so." I felt, and I dare say I looked, almost inanimate. He took me in his arms and bending over me, eagerly begged me to forgive him.