“Were you, Mr. Gernon,” said the lively girl, turning upon me her soft blue eyes, in a manner which brought on a fresh attack of _delirium tremens_; “‘delighted’ is a strong term, but Mr. Gernon, I know, is rather fond of such, little heeding their full import.” “Strong!” I replied, instantly falling into heroics; “it but feebly expresses the pleasure I feel on seeing you. Oh, dearest Olivia,” I continued, all the barriers of reserve giving way at once before the high tide of my feelings, “it is in vain longer to dissemble” (here I gently passed my other unoccupied arm round her slender waist); “I love you with the fondest affection. Deign to say that I possess an interest in your heart.” A slight and almost imperceptible increase of pressure from the little hand locked in mine, and a timid look from the generally lively but now subdued and abashed girl, was the silent but expressive answer I received. It was enough, for a griff, at least. I drew her closer to my side—she slowly averted her head; mine followed its movement. The vertebral column had reached its rotary limit—so that there was a sort of surrender at discretion—and I imprinted a long and fervent kiss on the soft and downy cheek of Olivia. Oh, blissful climax of a thousand sweet emotions; too exquisite to endure, too precious for fate to accord more than once in an existence—the first innocent kiss of requited affection—how can I ever forget ye? Let raptured fancy on that moment dwell, When my fond vows in trembling accents fell; When love acknowledged woke the trembling sigh, Swelled my fond breast and filled the melting eye. Yes, surely, “love is heaven, and heaven is love,” as has been said and sung any time for the last three thousand years; and Mahomed showed himself deeply read in the human heart, when he made the chief delight of his paradise to consist in it; not, I suspect, as is generally imagined, the passion in its purely gross acceptation, but that elevating and refining sentiment which beautifully attunes all our noblest emotions; which, when it swells the heart, causes it to overflow, like a mantling fountain, to refresh and fertilize all around. No, I shall never forget the thrill of delight with which I committed that daring act of petty larceny. “Yes,” I continued, “dearest Olivia, I have long loved you. I loved you from the first, and would fain indulge a faint hope” (this was hypocritical, for I was quite sure of it) “that I am not wholly indifferent to you.” The deepest blush overspread Olivia’s neck and face; she was summoning all her maidenly resolution for an avowal: “Dear Mr. Gernon,” she said, “believe me,—” “Stope him! stope him, Gernon,” roared a stentorian voice at this moment; “cut the deevil off fra’ the tree!”