"Why, now, 'tis strange; you remind me of my reason for going. Since Mr. Faringfield gave me his sanction, I hadn't thought of that. I'm afraid I've been something of a hypocrite. And yet I certainly thought my desire to go was chiefly on account of my architectural studies; and I certainly intend to pursue them, too. I must have deceived myself a little, though, by dwelling on that reason as one that would prevail with Mr. Faringfield; one that he could understand, and could not fairly oppose. For, hearkee, all the way home, when I looked forward to the future, the architectural part of it was not in my head. I was thinking of the famous historic places I should see; the places where great men have lived; the birthplace and grave of Shakespeare; the palaces where great pageants and tragedies have been enacted; the scenes of great battles; the abbey where so many poets and kings and queens are buried; the Tower where such memorable dramas have occurred; the castles that have stood since the days of chivalry; and Oxford; and the green fields of England that poets have written of, and the churchyard of Gray's Elegy; and all that kind of thing." [Illustration: "OUR MOTIONS, AS WE TOUCHED OUR LIPS WITH THEM, WERE SO IN UNISON THAT MARGARET LAUGHED."] "Ay, and something of the gay life of the present, I'll warrant," said I, with a smile; "the playhouses, and the taverns, and the parks, and Vauxhall, and the assembly-rooms; and all _that_ kind of thing." "Why, yes, 'tis true. And I wish you were to go with me." "Alas, I'm tied down here. Some day, perhaps--" "What are you two talking of?" The interruption came in a soft, clear, musical voice, of which the instant effect was to make us both start up, and turn toward the fence, with hastened hearts and smiling faces. Margaret stood erect, looking over the palings at us, backed by the green and flowered bushes through which she and Fanny had moved noiselessly toward the fence in quest of nosegays for the supper-table. Fanny stood at her side, and both smiled, Margaret archly, Fanny pleasantly. The two seemed of one race with the flowers about them, though Margaret's radiant beauty far outshone the more modest charms of her brown-eyed younger sister. The elder placed her gathered flowers on the upper rail of the fence, and taking two roses, one in each hand, held them out toward us. We grasped each his rose at the same time, and our motions, as we touched our lips with them, were so in unison that Margaret laughed. "And what _were_ you talking of?" says she. "Is it a secret any longer?" I asked Philip. "No." "Then we were talking of Phil's going to England, to be a great architect." "Going to England!" She looked as if she could not have rightly understood. "Yes," said I, "in a year from now, to stay, the Lord knows how long." She turned white, then red; and had the strangest look. "Is it true?" she asked, after a moment, turning to Phil. "Yes. I am to go next June."