sensitive, quick, passionate, independent nature to deal with; how ever should he deal with it? And how ever was he to execute his purpose to- day? the purpose with which he had brought her, poor child, to this walk in the Park. Was it not rather cruel, to begin a time of great pain with a taste of exquisite pleasure? Mr. Digby hardly knew what he would do, when he left the car with his charge and entered the Park. They went in at the great Fifth Avenue entrance; and for a few minutes he was engaged in piloting himself and her through the crowd of coming and going carriages; but when they reached quiet going and a secure footpath, he looked at her. It smote him. Such an expression of awakened delight was in her face; such keen curiosity, such simplicity and fulness of enjoyment. Rotha was at a self-conscious age, but she had forgotten herself; two years old is not more free from self-recollection. They walked along slowly, the girl reviewing everything in the lively show before her; lips parting sometimes for a smile, but with no leisure for a word. Her companion watched her. They walked on and on; turned now hither and now thither; Rotha remained in a maze, only mechanically following where she was led. It was a fine afternoon, and all the world was out. Carriages, riders, foot travellers; everywhere crowds of people. Where was Mr. Digby going to make the communication he had come here to make? He doubted about it now, but if he spoke, where should it be? Not in this crowd, where any minute some acquaintance might see him and speak to him. With some trouble he sought out a resting place for Rotha from whence she could have a good view of one angle of a much travelled drive, and at the same time both of them were in a sort hid away from observation. Here they sat down; but if Rotha's feet might rest, her companion's mind was further and further from any such point of comfort. They had exchanged hardly any words since they set out; and now the difficulty of beginning what he had to say seemed greater than ever. There was a long silence. Rotha broke it; she did not know that it had been long. "Mr. Digby--there are a great many things I do not understand." "My case too, Rotha." "Yes, but you understand a great many things that I don't." "What is troubling you now, with a sense of ignorance?" "I see in a great many carriages two gentlemen dressed just alike, sitting together; they are on the back seat always, and they always have their arms folded, just alike; what are they?" "Not gentlemen, Rotha; they are footmen, or grooms." "What's the difference?" "Between footmen and grooms?" "No, no; between a gentleman and a man that isn't a gentleman?" "You asked me that once before, didn't you?" "Yes; but I don't make it out." "Why do you try?" "Why Mr. Digby, I like to understand things."