They left George and the trap at the “Colley Dog,” and ascended the mountain. There were no serious difficulties on this side; but still there were little occasional asperities, that gave the lover an opportunity to offer his arm; and Mr. Coventry threw a graceful devotion even into this slight act of homage. He wooed her with perfect moderation at first; it was not his business to alarm her at starting; he proceeded gradually; and, by the time they had reached the summit, he had felt his way, and had every reason to hope she would accept him. At the summit the remarkable beauty of the view threw her into raptures, and interrupted the more interesting topic on which he was bent. But the man of the world showed no impatience (I don't say he felt none); he answered all Grace's questions, and told her what all the places were. But, by-and-by, the atmosphere thickened suddenly in that quarter, and he then told her gently he had something to show her on the other side of the knob. He conducted her to a shed the shepherds had erected, and seated her on a rude bench. “You must be a little tired,” he said. Then he showed her, in the valley, one of those delightful old red brick houses, with white stone facings. “That is Bollinghope.” She looked at it with polite interest. “Do you like it?” “Very much. It warms the landscape so.” He expected a more prosaic answer; but he took her cue. “I wish it was a great deal prettier than it is, and its owner a much better man; richer--wiser--” “You are hard to please, Mr. Coventry.” “Miss Carden--Grace--may I call you Grace?” “It seems to me you have done it.” “But I had no right.” “Then, of course, you will never do it again.” “I should be very unhappy if I thought that. Miss Carden, I think you know how dear you are to me, and have been ever since I first met you. I wish I had ten times more to offer you than I have. But I am only a poor gentleman, of good descent, but moderate means, as you see.” Comedie! (Bollinghope was the sort of house that generally goes with L5000 a year at least.) “I don't care about your means, Mr. Coventry,” said Grace, with a lofty smile. “It is your amiable character that I esteem.” “You forgive me for loving you; for hoping that you will let me lead you to my poor house there, as my adored wife?” It had come; and, although she knew it was coming, yet her face was dyed with blushes. “I esteem you very much,” she faltered. “I thank you for the honor you do me; but I--oh, pray, let me think what I am doing.” She covered her face with her hands, and her bosom panted visibly. Mr. Coventry loved her sincerely, and his own heart beat high at this moment. He augured well from her agitation; but presently he saw something that puzzled him, and gave a man of his experience a qualm. A tear forced its way between her fingers; another, and another, soon followed.