Dorothy by her beauty had won John's admiration when first he beheld her. When he met her afterward, her charms of mind and her thousand winsome ways moved him deeply. But upon the evening of which I am now telling you he beheld for the first time her grand burning soul, and he saw her pure heart filled to overflowing with its dangerous burden of love, right from the hands of God Himself, as the girl had said. John was of a coarser fibre than she who had put him up for her idol; but his sensibilities were keen, and at their awakening he saw clearly the worth of the priceless treasure which propitious fate had given him in the love of Dorothy, and he sat humbly at her feet. Yet she knew it not, but sat humbly at John's feet the happiest woman in all the world because of her great good fortune in having a demi-god upon whom she could lavish the untold wealth of her heart. If you are a woman, pray God that He may touch your eyes with Dorothy's blessed blindness. There is a heaven in the dark for you, if you can find it. I must leave the scene, though I am loath to do so. Seldom do we catch a glimpse of a human soul, and more seldom still does it show itself like a gust of God's breath upon the deep of eternity as it did that night in Dorothy. After a time John said: "I have your promise to be my wife. Do you still wish to keep it?" "What an absurd question, John," replied the girl, laughing softly and contentedly. "Why else am I here? Tell me, think you, John, should I be here if I were not willing and eager to--to keep that promise?" "Will you go with me notwithstanding your father's hatred of my house?" he asked. "Ah, truly that I will, John," she answered; "surely you know I will go with you." "Let us go at once. Let us lose not a moment. We have already delayed too long," cried John in eager ecstasy. "Not to-night, John; I cannot go to-night," she pleaded. "Think of my attire," and she drew my cloak more closely about her. "I cannot go with you this time. My father is angry with me because of you, although he does not know who you are. Is it not famous to have a lover in secret of whom nobody knows? Father is angry with me, and as I told you in my letter, he keeps me a prisoner in my rooms. Aunt Dorothy stands guard over me. The dear, simple old soul! She told me, thinking I was Malcolm, that she was too old to be duped by a girl! Oh, it was too comical!" And she threw back her head and gave forth a peal of laughter that John was reluctantly compelled to silence. "I would so delight to tell you of the scene when I was in Aunt Dorothy's room impersonating Malcolm; but I have so much else to say of more importance that I know I shall not tell the half. When you have left me, I shall remember what I most wished to say but forgot."