"And houses, lands, and money," he rejoins, with a careless shrug of his shoulders, "would melt away into such airy distances that, though my limbs were quickened with mercury, I should never be able to overtake them. But what are all these when weighed against love----" Flushed and palpitating, Nelly finds strength to interrupt him. "Mr. Temple, I must not listen to you. I am not ignorant of the reason why your aunt sent you away--for you _were_ sent, you know!" she adds, somewhat saucily. "Oh, yes, I know I was sent away. I am sure I did not want to go." "Twice to-day Lady Temple has spoken seriously to me--I leave you to guess upon what subject. Mr. Temple, you know what my position is. I am a dependent, without parents, without friends, without money. Sometimes when I look into the future, and think of what would become of me if I were thrown upon the world, I tremble with fear." "And yet you have a strong will of your own," he mutters, not in the most amiable tone; but in another instant he relapses into his lighter mood. There is a moment's hesitation on her part, as though her strong will were about to desert her; but she, also, succeeds in controlling herself. "No, I am weak, very, very weak; but for my own sake I must strive to be strong. And now I will leave you, please. No; do not walk with me to the house. We shall be seen, and the servants will talk." "Let them talk!" he cries impetuously. She looks him steadily in the face. "If they do, Mr. Temple, who will suffer--you or I?" "You don't understand me, Nelly--nay, I _will_ call you Nelly when no one is by to hear!--I will answer for their discretion; but indeed and indeed, we shall not be seen!" While he speaks, she is walking towards the house, and he is by her side. After them, through the path where the shadows lie, steals the gardener's son, quivering with excitement. If he could but hear what these two were saying to each other! He loves Nelly Marston with all the strength of his nature. He not only loves her; he respects her. The very ground she walks upon is sacred in his eyes. Until lately he had fed hopefully upon small crumbs of comfort which the girl, wittingly or unwittingly, had given him. Nelly had spoken pleasantly to him; Nelly had smiled upon him as she tripped past him; Nelly wore a flower he gave her. But he had never found the courage to open his heart to her, she being in his estimation so far above him, and now he fears that a rival has stepped in, and that what he yearns for with all his soul is slipping from him. "Mr. Temple," says Nelly, when they are near the house, "you said just now that you were starving of hunger. You had best bribe one of the servants, and get something to eat. Then I should advise you to quit Springfield, and not return till you are sent for." "Should you!" he replies, defiantly and yet beseechingly. "Advice is a cheap gift. _You_ would not send for me, I warrant." "By what right should I?"