“Dearest Margaret; by a blessed accident, I have discovered the secret shelf—its contents are a token to me that you have rightly construed my earnest devotion of word and manner. Dare I imagine it also a token that you approve that devotion? Tell me, sweet Margaret, say but one word, but let that word be ‘yes,’ and I am yours only and forever, Vivian.” He placed it on the shelf, hastily closed the little door, and left the house; after meeting Mr. Walton on the stairs, and promising to call the next day. CHAPTER V. Vivian was punctual to his appointment; but Miss Walton received him with a cold and quiet dignity, for which he could not account. Her cheek was flushed, and she looked as if she had been weeping bitterly. She was slowly tearing a note. As soon as she had finished, she touched the spring of the secret door, and, taking from the shelf the unfortunate card, deliberately tore it into atoms, and placed the bits in the basket. Vivian gazed upon her in mingled astonishment and despair. “Wont they hurt the poor woman’s head?” asked he, attempting to smile. “Not so much as they have hurt my _heart_,” replied Margaret in a low tone, and rising as she spoke, she was gone before he had time to reply. He resolved to ask an explanation, and simply writing, “How have I offended you?”—he again used the secret shelf as a repository for his thoughts. The next day he called again. The box was still on the table, but the little door, the shelf, the note, had vanished, and only a hollow space disfigured our heroine’s beautiful India work-box. It seemed she was determined to have no secret correspondence, either with him or any one else. Vivian thought himself alone, and, leaning his head on the box, sighed deeply. His sigh was echoed, and, looking up, he caught Margaret’s eyes bent mournfully upon him—blushing she turned away. He sprung up, caught her hand, drew her gently to the sofa, and pointing to the box, looked imploringly, but silently, in her face. “Oh!” she said, in a faltering voice, “how could you so humble me in my own eyes, as to let me know that you had discovered the only secret I ever had in my life?” A sudden light flashed upon Vivian’s mind! “Was that it, dearest Margaret? It _was_ wrong, it was indelicate; but I did not think of it then, I was so happy, and Heaven knows I have suffered enough for my fault! Forgive me! you _will_ forgive me?” “I have already forgiven you, Vivian.” “But that is not enough; you must do more than forgive, you must love me, dear one!” he murmured, drawing her tenderly towards him.