"Not for the world!" was the earnest rejoinder, "at least if you are not tired of my society. Dinner--to which you must allow me the pleasure of conducting you--must," he added, looking at his watch, "soon be ready; till then, let me show you the aviary." And again he offered his arm, and led her in that direction. After which, as she owned at last to feeling a little tired, they seated themselves in the pavilion, where others of the company were assembled, awaiting the banquet to be given in the house. There was one peculiarity about her companion which impressed Mary at the time. Though animated and lively in his manner and discourse when he did speak, his words were not many, whilst on the contrary the earnest, thoughtful interest with which he seemed to listen to every sentence proceeding from her mouth, trivial and simple as she considered them herself to be, at the same time as it encouraged and irresistibly flattered her modest pride, made her, nevertheless, wonder, and once or twice look up inquiringly into the dark eyes bent down so earnestly upon her face, as she gave utterance to any opinion or remark, as if to discover from what reason this might proceed. She could not tell what attraction there often is in the simple-minded, guileless nature of a youthful being like herself, to the man plunged in the cares and passions of maturer years, and though Eugene Trevor, at that time was young--not more than five and twenty--a more experienced eye than Mary's might have discerned, _that_ stamped upon his countenance, which told him to be, even then, no stranger to those dark storms of passion, or of secret sin which, sweeping over man's breast, blight before its time the freshness, health, and purity of youth. But how could Mary Seaham read all this? how should her guileless spirit divine the wild, dark thoughts--the sinful purposes, unspeakable, unspoken, which must even at that very time, like so many demons, have been working, suggesting, forming themselves within the soul of him who thus was seated by her unsuspecting side? And well for all of us, that thus it must ever be-- "For what if Heaven for once its searching light Lent to some partial eye, disclosing all The rude bad thoughts that in our bosoms' night Wander at large, nor heed Love's gentle thrall; Who would not shun the dreary uncouth place, As if, fond leaning where her infant slept, A mother's arm a serpent should embrace; So might we friendless live--and die unblest." * * * * * Yet Mary need not have wondered, even had it been given her, to look in less partial light upon the being who by his kindness and other fascinating qualities had so propitiated her sensitive, susceptible young heart.