Again her beautiful dark eyes were raised, in that quick, and quickly-withdrawn, penetrating, earnest, fervid, impassioned glance, that said, more eloquently than words would have spoken, “All that you demand for him, and more, a millionfold, will my own heart, daily, hourly yield!” and then the blush deepened on her cheek, and she remained dumb. “She, the promised wife, I mean, must not hold free conversation with gentlemen who are not her own near relatives; she must not correspond with them--she must not, in a word, do many things, which, though they might be perfectly innocent in a disengaged woman, would be very reprehensible in a betrothed maiden.” Margaret’s color visibly fluctuated--her bosom perceptibly fluttered. “Well, Margaret, what do you think of that which I have been telling you?” “Oh! I know--I know you speak truly. I hope I know my duty and love to do it,” she said, in an agitated, confused manner; “but let us talk of something else, dear Mr. Wellworth. Let us talk of my little, independent establishment here. When I spoke of the pleasant nature of my surroundings, it was to win your consent that dear Grace might come and be my guest for a week. She would be such a sweet comfort to me, and I could make her so happy here! If you will consent, I will send Forrest with the carriage for her to-morrow. Say, will you, dear Mr. Wellworth?” “Perhaps; we will talk about that by and by. Margaret,” he said, suddenly lowering his voice, “dismiss your woman, I wish to speak alone with you, my child.” “Hildreth, go, but remain in sound of my bell,” said Miss Helmstedt. As soon as Hildreth had left the room, Mr. Wellworth drew his chair beside the low seat of Margaret, took her hand, and would have held it while he spoke, but that she, who always shrank even from the fatherly familiarity of her pastor, very gently withdrew it, and respectfully inquired: “What was it you wished to say to me, dear Mr. Wellworth?” “A very serious matter, my dear child. Margaret, I have no art in circumnavigating a subject. I have been trying to approach gradually the subject of my visit to you this morning, and I have not succeeded. I am no nearer than when I first entered. I know not how to ‘break’ bad news----” “In a word, sir, has misfortune happened to any of my friends?” inquired Margaret, with a pale cheek, but with a strange, calm voice. “No; that were more easily told than what I have to tell,” said the minister, solemnly. “Please go on then, sir, and let me know the worst at once.” “Then, my dear Margaret, I have been informed that you, a betrothed wife, have an intimate male correspondent, who is neither your father nor your affianced husband, and whose name and character, and relations with yourself, you decline to divulge?” Margaret grew ashen pale, clasped her hands, compressed her lips, and remained silent. “What have you to say to this charge, Margaret?”