Then Miss Letty's mother awoke to the situation, and said, “Fy, fy, Letitia.” So it was that these two young persons were plunged in grief. Oh, glorious grief of thwarted love! When they met now, they did not talk of the landscape. Their conversation, though no doubt as genteel as before, was all of broken hearts. But again Letty's mother found out, and went in wrath to call on Alfred's family. It was decided between them that the young man should be sent away from home. “To save him,” says the father. “To protect my daughter,” says Mrs. Morris. But Alfred and Letty had something to say.... It was in December; there was a snow-storm--a storm which Lydia Wright would certainly have called “awful”; but it did not interfere with true love; these two children met in the graveyard to swear undying constancy. Alfred's lantern came twinkling through the flakes, as he threaded his way across the hillside among the tombstones, and found Letty just inside the entrance, standing with her black serving-woman under a tulip-tree. The negress, chattering with cold and fright, kept plucking at the girl's pelisse; but once Alfred was at her side, Letty was indifferent to storm and ghosts. As for Alfred, he was too cast down to think of them. “Letty, they will part us.” “No, my dear Alfred, no!” “Yes. Yes, they will. Oh, if you were only mine!” Miss Letty sighed. “Will you be true to me, Letty? I am to go on a sailing-vessel to China, to be gone two years. Will you wait for me?” Letty gave a little cry; two years! Her black woman twitched her sleeve. “Miss Let, it's gittin' cole, honey.” “(Don't, Flora.)--Alfred, _two years!_ Oh, Alfred, that is an eternity. Why, I should be--I should be twenty!” The lantern, set on a tombstone beside them, blinked in a snowy gust. Alfred covered his face with his hands, he was shaken to his soul; the little, gay creature beside him thrilled at a sound from behind those hands. “Alfred,”--she said, faintly; then she hid her face against his arm; “my dear Alfred, I will, if you desire it--fly with you!” Alfred, with a gasp, lifted his head and stared at her. His slower mind had seen nothing but separation and despair; but the moment the word was said he was aflame. What! Would she? Could she? Adorable creature! “Miss Let, my feet done get cole--” (“Flora, be still!)--Yes, Alfred, yes. I am thine.” The boy caught her in his arms. “But I am to be sent away on Monday! My angel, could you--fly, _to-morrow_?” And Letty, her face still hidden against his shoulder, nodded.