“You had better leave me and take some city girl, who is up to your standard and your father’s,” she said hotly, with a flash in her eyes which Herbert knew was dangerous. He had blundered somehow and must commence again. “I say, Lou,” he began, “don’t be so peppery. I mean all right, but am awkward telling it. I love you. I want you to be my wife. I don’t care for father, nor anything. Listen to me,” he continued, as she made a movement to get up. He put her back in her chair and urged his cause, until her scruples began to give way. He seemed a part of her life. He was young, and handsome, and masterful in his pleading. He was Judge White’s son, and that went for something. The trip to Europe was very alluring, although four long years in the distance, and she was at last overcome by his eloquence, and by the fatigue which made her weak to resist or to reason clearly. “Then it is settled,” he said, triumphantly. “You are to be my wife, and for the present no one is to know it but ourselves. We are to appear to the world as we always have, the best of friends—lovers, if they choose to call us so; they have done that, you know, but the secret is ours.” He stooped to kiss her, as a seal to their betrothal, but she drew her head back quickly and put up her hands, with a warning gesture. “No, Herbert,” she said. “You cannot kiss me till the world knows we are engaged. I do not consider myself fully pledged till then, although I shall keep my promise.” Herbert knew she was in earnest, and stood a moment aghast at being denied what he felt he had a right to claim. He was not accustomed to opposition, and a frown settled on his face, as she said in the tone in which she used to command him when they were children: “Now you must really go, or I shall fall asleep again, and hark! the clock is striking two, and I do believe I hear father coming. Yes, there he is,”—she continued, as the front door opened and her father appeared, calling to her: “Daughter, come in. Do you know what time it is?” “Yes, father, I’m coming,” Louie replied, waving her hand to Herbert, who went down the steps farthest from Mr. Grey, so as not to speak to him in passing. He was not in a mood to talk to anyone, and wanted to be alone, and think over what he had done, and decide if he had acted wisely in being so precipitate. Meanwhile Louie went to her father, who said: “Was that young White, hurrying down the walk as if he had been stealing sheep? or was it a lamb he was after?” he added, facetiously, his love of humor coming to the surface. He had always been proud of Herbert’s evident liking for Louie, and nothing would have pleased him better than to know there was an engagement between them. This Louie suspected, and wanted to tell him what had passed between herself and Herbert, but her promise restrained her, and she answered: “He brought a lamb back to the fold, and waited a little till the shepherd appeared.”