'I beg your pardon,' said he, as he threw the bridle over his arm and lifted his hat; 'I cannot be mistaken, changed though you are--you are my cousin, Olive Raymond?' She blushed deeply, and said, 'And you--are Allan Graham!' 'Yes, Olive. Oh! how good, how kind of you to come and meet me,' he replied, his heart beating lightly as he looked into her beautiful face and deftly possessed himself of her hands. 'Far from it,' she replied, seeking to release herself, and now growing pale with positive annoyance at his supposition. 'I have some duties to do at the village. I hope you enjoyed your shooting excursion?' she observed, after a pause. 'I did--and yet----' 'So much so, indeed, that you were in no haste to come home,' said she, laughing to conceal her secret vexation at the rencontre. Allan found his intended wife all that he could have wished, and more than he could have imagined. The little girl he had left, had now expanded into a tall, proud, and lovely one--lovelier than he had ever dreamed of her being; and under her pretty black velvet hat her grey-violet eyes regarded him with a curious mixture of shyness and confusion in their expression, and--though he did not then detect it--resentment. When he had last seen his 'little wife,' as he was wont to call her _then_, she was a madcap girl, with all her golden hair flying far and wide from a pearly neck and brow, rippling and unconfined. Now her braided hair was of the richest brown, and she was the belle of a London season, and he could not help acknowledging in his heart the many charms she possessed, and suddenly becoming very appreciative thereof. 'I hope Mr. Holcroft is enjoying his sport among the hills?' said she, after another pause. 'Never mind Holcroft,' replied Allan, a little piqued by her manner; 'have you no welcome for me, Olive?' 'Of course you are glad to be home again,' said she, evasively. 'I have always loved dear old Dundargue, even when I came home as a boy from school, and now I shall love it more than ever.' 'Why?' 'Can you ask me--when you are its permanent inmate?' 'I may not be so always,' said she, pointedly. 'Nothing lasts for ever; but as we are cousins--' she was about to add something, yet paused. 'And more than mere cousins can ever be to each other. You might at least give me your hand, Olive,' said he, drawing nearer to her as she looked up at him, earnestly, shyly, and then, he began to think, rather defiantly, with those wonderful violet-grey eyes of hers. She gave him her right hand, and, though cased in a tight glove, a soft and warm little hand it felt; but he drew her towards him, and, ere she could avert the act, was softly and swiftly kissed by him. '_Don't_,' she exclaimed, as she snatched her fingers from his clasp. 'How dare you?' she added, repelling him with both hands outspread, and a laughing indignation that was _not_ all laughter; but he looked at the sweet red lips as though he longed to offend again.