"'Ah!' she continued, as I made no reply, 'this is an hour for the soul to unveil its most secret chambers! Do you not think, Enos, that love rises superior to all conventionalities? that those whose souls are in unison should be allowed to reveal themselves to each other, regardless of the world's opinions?' "'Yes!' said I, earnestly. "'Enos, do you understand me?' she asked, in a tender voice,--almost a whisper. "'Yes,' said I, with a blushing confidence of my own passion. "'Then,' she whispered, 'our hearts are wholly in unison. I know you are true, Enos. I know your noble nature, and I will never doubt you. This is indeed happiness!' "And therewith she laid her head on my shoulder, and sighed,-- "'Life remits his tortures cruel, Love illumes his fairest fuel, When the hearts that once were dual Meet as one, in sweet renewal!' "'Miss Ringtop!' I cried, starting away from her, in alarm, 'you don't mean that--that'---- "I could not finish the sentence. "'Yes, Enos, _dear_ Enos! henceforth we belong to each other.' "The painful embarrassment I felt, as her true meaning shot through my mind, surpassed anything I had imagined, or experienced in anticipation, when planning how I should declare myself to Eunice. Miss Ringtop was at least ten years older than I, far from handsome, (but you remember her face,) and so affectedly sentimental, that I, sentimental as I was then, was sick of hearing her talk. Her hallucination was so monstrous, and gave me such a shock of desperate alarm, that I spoke, on the impulse of the moment, with great energy, without regarding how her feelings might be wounded. "'You mistake!' I exclaimed. 'I didn't mean that,--I didn't understand you. Don't talk to me that way,--don't look at me in that way, Miss Ringtop! We were never meant for each other,--I wasn't----You're so much older,--I mean different. It can't be,--no, it can never be! Let us go back to the house: the night is cold.' "I rose hastily to my feet. She murmured something,--what, I did not stay to hear,--but, plunging through the cedars, was hurrying with all speed to the house, when, half-way up the lawn, beside one of the rocky knobs, I met Eunice, who was apparently on her way to join us. In my excited mood, after the ordeal through which I had just passed, everything seemed easy. My usual timidity was blown to the four winds. I went directly to her, took her hand, and said,-- "'Eunice, the others are driving me mad with their candor; will you let me be candid, too?' "'I think you are always candid, Enos,' she answered. "Even then, if I had hesitated, I should have been lost. But I went on, without pausing,--