"You doubt me still," said Hargrave, turning aside his head, with such a look of vexation, that she was quite conquered. Taking his hand, as she had often done in those old, childish quarrels, she looked up in his face, and whispered gentle words, which brought the smile back again. "And now, my love," he said, as he drew her closer to him, taking from his pocket the chain and portrait, which Caroline had so eagerly desired to examine, and placing it again upon her neck; "let me give you back your own. Little can you imagine the exquisite pleasure I experienced, when I discovered that the portrait of your undeserving lover was still so faithfully preserved. Nay, blush not, my darling--when love has been once confessed, there can be no indelicacy in cherishing it to the very death. It will be very, very hard for me to retrace what has been lost--but with my sweet wife to help me, there is nothing I will not dare; and, knowing that you are so good and truthful, and untouched by the world, as I have found you, through all these trying months, I have learnt to trust all my aching conscience to your care." He paused to look down upon the tearful face of his betrothed--but she was too much affected to reply. How gloriously the sun shone on, and how blithely the birds carolled--and how pleasantly hummed the bees, in their busy search over the clover fields. That was a day to be well remembered. "Well," said Hargrave, when they entered the town again, "we must temporise with our present difficulties. I suppose you would not like me to bribe my aunt into peace while you remain?" "Oh, dear no--only tell her what I have not the courage to say--and leave the bribery, as you call it, to me. I have a little treasure, a great treasure it seemed once, in case of need, which I can now readily part with--I mean, the box of plate which was saved from that terrible fire. It is a coveted thing, and, therefore, will be a welcome present, that will pay for any fancied obligation; and I will send for it directly." "A brilliant idea, truly; but only behold, here is Miss Lovelace--for the sake of gossip she shall be at our wedding." "What do I see," said that young lady, coming up with her ringlets and flounces, quite in a ferment, with surprise--"Miss Lesly, why I thought you were at Weymouth, by this time; well, I am quite glad to see you." "No doubt," said Hargrave, gaily; "the street is not exactly a place for explanations--but, depend upon it, you shall be one of the first to know the reason of this change in Miss Lesly's arrangements." Raising his hat, as he passed her, he left her in a perfect ecstasy of curiosity; but whatever her after assertions, as to the depth of her penetration might be, it is pretty certain, that she did not arrive near the truth, after all her conjectures. "Surely," thought she, "that ill-tempered Miss Villars has actually spoken the truth, and they are to be married--and Miss Lesly remains to be a useful bridesmaid."