“For what?” she asked earnestly—half wondering whether he could mean _housekeeper_! “Come into the garden with me, dear, dear May, and I will tell you,” he whispered in her ear. At once the whole truth flashed upon her heart. “She loved—she was beloved!” She was no longer a child—that moment transformed her; and shrinking instantly from his embrace and blushing till her very temples glowed again—she said in a low and timid voice, “I think I had better go home to-morrow—perhaps to-day: my father will expect me.” “Julia,” said the Earl, “run into the garden, love, and see to Willie—he is in mischief, I dare say.” His daughter was out of sight in a moment. May stood shrinking and trembling, but unable to move. The Earl gazed, with a feeling bordering upon reverence, at the young girl, as she stood alone in her innocence. He drew slowly towards her—hesitated—again approached, and taking her hand with respectful tenderness, he said—“You know that I love you, May—how fondly—how fervently—time must show for language cannot:—will you—_say_ you will be mine—with your father’s consent, dear May—or say that I may hope!” Her whole soul was in her eyes as she raised them slowly to his and dropped them instantly again beneath his ardent gaze. “But—papa!” she murmured. “We will all go together, and ask ‘papa,’ dearest; and now for a turn in the garden. You will not refuse now, love?” And May Evelyn, blushing and smiling, took his offered arm, wondering what “dear papa and Lionel” would say to all this. It was a lovely evening in the early part of June, that, while Mr. Evelyn sat dozing in his arm chair and dreaming of his absent children, a light form stole over the threshold, and when he awoke, his gray hair was mingled with the glistening locks of his own beautiful and beloved May—his head resting on her shoulder, and her kiss warm upon his cheek! “My Lord,” said May, demurely, as she entered, with her father, the drawing-room in which the Earl awaited them—“papa is very glad that I have _given satisfaction_;—he thinks your visit a proof of it—although he could hardly have expected so much from his little ignoramus, as he will persist in calling me.” “My dear sir,” said the Earl, cordially pressing the offered hand of his host, “she has given _so much satisfaction_, that I wish, with your consent, to retain her as _governess_ for life, not for my children, but myself.” The reader has already foreseen the conclusion. Mr. Evelyn’s consent was obtained;—Lionel was sent for to be present at the wedding;—the ceremony was quietly performed in the little church of the village;—and for many succeeding seasons in London, the graceful and elegant wife of the Earl of —— was “the observed of all observers,” “the cynosure of neighboring eyes.” * * * * * AN EPISTLE TO FANNY. BY PARK BENJAMIN.