“Then, Hagar, love,” said he, “I am now perfectly serious in what I am about to say, I must either marry you very soon or tear myself away from you. Hagar, through the influence of one of my father’s old friends, I have been offered the situation of _attaché_ to the new embassy to the Court of Madrid; they sail in three weeks from Brooklyn. Come, Hagar, shall I go?” Hagar was silent. “Listen, Hagar,—if I go it is probable I shall remain three or four years—shall I go?” Hagar’s eyes burned holes in the floor. “Hagar, I am very weary of entreaty, hear me! I must either marry you or tear myself away from you! one or the other! and soon! Come! which shall I do, Hagar?” “We are very happy as we are; remain with us, this is your home, stay, you shall have as much of my company as you wish, the more the better; I will give up all my out-door amusements when you cannot accompany me, I will do anything in the world to gratify you—except get married—oh, not yet.” He jumped up—it was strange to see the gentle and graceful Raymond exhibit so much emotion. “‘Not yet.’ Oh! for heaven’s sake do not ring the changes on those two odious syllables any longer, Hagar; I am getting restive under it.” Then he dropped down into his seat again with a sigh, saying, “Bear with me; Hagar, it is not often that I lose patience, but indeed, my wild love, you are a trial! now hear me, Hagar. I shall write and accept that situation, I shall make preparations for my journey, and in two weeks from this night I shall leave Heath Hall to join the embassy that will sail in one week from that time. I shall, unless dearest Hagar in that time places her little hand in mine and trusts me with the care of her future happiness—well, Hagar?” “Well, Raymond?” “What have you to say to that?” “Nothing.” “Nothing?” “_Nothing._” “Ungentle! Unwomanly!” “Perhaps _too_ ungentle, _too_ unwomanly to be able to make you happy, Raymond!” “Hagar!” “Well!” “Mad girl! why do you act in this way?” “What way? I beg you to remain with us; I promise you to do everything to make you happy, except marry you; and you should rest content, especially as I wish to marry no one else.” “But why? why?” “Because I am afraid!—afraid!” said the girl. And then she arose, and wishing him good night, hurried into the room. As she passed in, a pale figure intercepted her further progress— “Gusty!” she exclaimed. “Yes, ‘Gusty!’” “I did not know that you were here.”