Espy came upon her there one day, approaching her unperceived, and as he noted the sadness of her countenance, the pallor of her cheek, and saw her hastily brush away a tear, his heart smote him. He pushed his way to her side, and putting his lips to her ear, “Floy, darling!” he whispered, “come with me; take my arm, and let me help you out of this suffocating atmosphere.” She made no reply, but suffered him to draw her hand within his arm and lead her away. Neither spoke until they were clear of the crowd and had reached a shaded walk, where they might converse without fear of being overheard. Then turning resolutely to him, “Espy,” she said, “I cannot bear this any longer. What is wrong? what is it that has come between us?” “Why,” he said, coloring and looking down with a mortified air, “what have I done that you should ask me that, Floy? I have found no fault with you, as indeed,” he added quickly, “I have had no reason to do.” “No, you have not found fault, but a change has come over you,” she answered sadly, “and it would be kinder, far kinder to be frank with me. Why should you not be?” “Because you have not been so with me,” he retorted half angrily. “I have not? Espy, you must explain; I insist upon it.” And she looked so pained that his heart smote him. “Forgive me, Floy, darling!” he exclaimed. “I am a brute to hurt you so! But why did you leave me to learn of your changed circumstances from others? Did you fear that I would covet your wealth? that I would love it instead of you?” “Oh, Espy! as if I could have so base a thought in connection with you!” she cried reproachfully. “But why not tell me?” he said, coloring deeply. “Because I saw what delight you took in the thought that you were winning the means to make a home for me, and I would not deprive you of that till I must; and because I was determined that no one should say you sought me for my money.” He was deeply ashamed of his suspicions, and said so frankly, begging her pardon. “We will exchange forgiveness,” she whispered, flashing a look upon him that thrilled him to his heart’s core. “I was wrong too. Henceforth let us have not the slightest concealment from each other.” “Agreed!” he said, tenderly pressing the hand he held, and gazing with all a lover’s ardent admiration into the dear face at his side, while his heart bounded with hope and happiness. And she?--ah, in the fulness of her content and joy even her long-lost, long-sought mother was for the moment forgotten. CHAPTER XXXVIII. “FOUND! FOUND! FOUND!” “Yes, they’re splendid! they’re gorgeous! superior to the best: they must be! But what is it Shakespeare says? “‘How vain the ardour of the crowd, How low, how little are--’” “Oh, that’s Grey, mother! But never mind! Come--Floy!” as a lady in front of them turned suddenly round.