The last question and its answer was overheard by Eliza, as she was coming in from the garden where she had been attending to a few flowers. She turned deadly pale as she saw Mason, and remained standing in the door. He arose and took her hand in both of his, and was scarcely able to pronounce her name. The good aunt stood with uplifted hands, gazing with ludicrous amazement at the scene. Eliza was the first to recover her self-possession. She introduced Mason to her aunt as an old friend. "Friend!--are you sure he is a friend?" "He is a friend," said Mason, "who is very grateful to you for the love you have borne her, and the care you have taken of her." "There," said she, opening a door which led to a parlor, perhaps ten feet square, motioning to them to enter. Mason, still retaining her trembling hand, led Eliza into the room, and seated her on the sofa, the chief article of furniture it contained. Her eyes met his earnest gaze. They were immediately filled with tears. His own overflowed. He threw his arm around her, and they mingled their tears in silence. It was long ere the first word was spoken. Eliza at length seemed to wake as from a dream. "What am I doing?" said she, attempting to remove his arm, "we are almost strangers." "Eliza," said he, solemnly, "do you say what you feel?" "No, but I know not--" she could not finish the sentence. "Eliza, you are dearer to me than any one upon earth." She made no efforts to resist the pressure of his arm. There were moments of eloquent silence. "Eliza, will you become my wife?" "Do you know how utterly destitute I am?" "That has no connection with my question." "If you are the same George Mason you used to be, you wish for a direct answer. I will." It was not till this word was spoken that he ventured to impress a kiss upon her cheek. "I have not done right," said Eliza; "you can never know how much I owe to that dear aunt. I ought not to engage myself without her consent--I can never be separated from her." "You cannot suppose that I would wish you to be separated." "You are the same--" she was about to add some epithets of praise, but checked herself. "How is it that you have remained unchanged?" "By keeping bright an image in my heart of hearts." With some difficulty Eliza rose, and opening the door, spoke to her aunt. She came and stood in the door. "Well, ma'am," said Mason, "I have gained Eliza's consent to change her name, if you will give your consent." She stood as one bewildered. The cloud which rested on her countenance was painful to behold. It was necessary to repeat his remark before she could apprehend it. "Ah, is it so? It has come at last. He doeth all things well. I hadn't faith to trust Him. He doeth all things well." "We have your consent?" "If she is half as loving to you as she has been to me, you will never be sorry. But what will become of me?"