How could he leave her? To others she seemed wrapped in timid reserve. He only had the key to the fair realm of her unfolding mind. How could he bear to leave her for even a little while? How barren his life would be without her! How shorn of all beauty and grace! And what would her life be without him, to whom had been offered up all her beauty and the stored sweets of her nature? Who would guard her from other eyes, that as her beauty and charm came to their full bloom might look covetously upon her? For the first time (and the bare suggestion seemed profanation) it occured to him that a day might come when, as this slip of maidenhood walked forth in her surpassing beauty and her precious innocence and purity the eyes of a man might make note of her loveliness, her altogether desirableness--might rest upon her with hopes of possession--and he not there to kill him upon the spot. What if in his absence another's hand should be stretched to pluck his heartsease blossom--that left unguarded, unprotected by him, another should snatch it, in its beauty, its purity and innocence, to his bosom? The thought was hell! Faint and trembling, he gazed down upon her as they strolled along, compelling her soft eyes to meet his anguished ones. His face was white and strained with his misery. She was pale and trembling, too, and there was dew on the sweeping lashes, and as she lifted them and looked into his face she trembled more. He looked upon her, tenderly marvelling to see in her at once the loveliest of children and of women--a woman with her first grief! There was heart-break in his voice, for himself and for her, as he murmured (brokenly) words of love and of comfort in her ear, and in her voice as she, brokenly, answered him. The sun was setting--a pageant in which they both were wont to take exquisite delight--but they could not look at the glowing heavens for the heaven of love and of beautiful sorrow that each found in the eyes of the other. Suddenly, they knew! The knowledge burst upon them like an illumining flood. How or whence it came they could not tell, nor did they question--but they knew that the love they bore each other was no brother and sister love, but that what time they had been calling each other "Buddie," and "Sissy," there had been growing--growing in their hearts the red, red rose of romance--the love betwixt man and maid of which poets tell--knew that in that sweet, that sad, that wondrous eventide the rose had burst into glorious flower. They trembled in the presence of this sweetest miracle. The beauty and solemnity of it well nigh deprived them of the power of speech. A divine silence fell upon them and they slowly, softly took their way homeward through the gathering dusk, hand in hand--but with few words--to tell the Mother.