I did not answer—I could not; but I leaned my face against his shoulder, and, as his arm encircled me, he bent down his head and whispered what answer he wished me to make. We left _our_ favorite walk engaged—with _one_ hope—_one_ love—_one_ joy. As if in charming coincidence with our happiness, how gloriously beautiful was the aspect worn by surrounding objects. And we asked one another, in sympathy, could any thing in England, France, or Italy—in the way of trees—be equal to our forests, as they then appeared? So many kinds—so many shades—so differing in foliage: now dense and rich in living green—now sparse, showing the satiny boughs of the elm, or the rich brown trunk of oak, or its mossy covering—now the light, feathery foliage waving as in spring—all so varying, yet commingling, and from their very contrasts making the effect more striking, and forming a whole of harmony, like unto some gorgeous picture. And then the sunset, as we stood on a rising hill to gaze upon his setting, on this our happy evening! ’Twas as glorious as ever Italia’s sky could boast. Little cloudlets of burnished gold, whose upper edge wore a pale violet hue, were floating in a sea of rose; whilst above and around was the pure azure canopy. And all these were changing in form and tint, as lower, and still more low, sunk the sun—like the fabled changes of the dying dolphin—till the whole sobered down into the soft gray of twilight. Then we turned for our walk home. How tenderly did he fold my shawl around me, and whisper lovingly as he drew my hand under his arm, that I must be careful now of my health for _his_ sake, if I would not for my own! As we turned into the graveled walk leading directly to the house, we met Clare and Mrs. Dudley. I saw them before he was aware they were approaching, for his head was bent toward me as he uttered words of joy which thrilled my heart, so long aching for sympathy and _his_ love, with a happiness almost amounting to agony. How red grew my face as their eyes looked full upon us! How surprised the stare, how cold their passing salutation to us both! But little either of us recked now. Every thing with me was forgotten but the certainty of his loving me, and my promise to become his wife. When he has gone—ah! here comes the gloomy shadow in my picture of light. I will form some plan to make sufficient money, that I may not be dependent on any one for my simple outfit, and then we will marry, as I said, next summer. Now, I can only think of my happiness, which is too ecstatic for me yet to realize.