In the evening, we all assembled in the porch; and, once or twice before she did so, I thought Bessy was going to rise; but she hesitated, and retained her seat. At length, however, she started up, saying, "Come, Richard, and take a little walk with me." "My dear, it is very late," said Mrs. Stringer; "and you have not been well. The sun will soon set." "Oh, a walk will do me good," answered Bessy, with a touch of the old spirit; "and we shall not be long; besides, my dear Mrs. Stringer, I want to speak with Richard in private." And she laughed, but not gaily; adding, "You know we have got a great deal of important business to transact. Did not Mr. Hubbard tell you that he had made over to me vast possessions--to have and to hold, &c. &c. &c.? Come, Richard, get me my veil out of the hall, and give me your arm, like a good knight and true." I went for the veil and cast it over her head. I gave her my arm, and felt her hand tremble violently as she took it. We walked down the steps in silence, across the grass-plot, through the little peach-orchard, into the field bordered by the wood through the devious paths of which we had wandered some time before to escape the companionship of the Rev. Mr. McGrubber. I was impatient; and as we entered the field, I said,-- "Now, Bessy----" But she cut me short, murmuring,-- "Not yet, Richard; not yet, dear Richard." We walked on, and entered a path in the wood; and at the end of about a hundred yards further, found a little open space, with one large old tree separated from the rest. The rays of the sinking sun found their way in here over the turf, and chequered the green with gold. Bessy paused here, near the foot of the tree, raised her eyes to my face with a look of solemn earnestness, and placed her hand in mine, uttering the one simple word,-- "Richard." We were both terribly agitated; and it seemed to me that she could hardly support herself. Therefore, before I said a word that could increase her emotion, I made her seat herself upon the mossy root, and placed myself beside her. What I had to say needed no long consideration. "Bessy," I ejaculated, holding her hand in mine, "you must have seen my feelings towards you. You must have learned, long ere this, that I love you dearly--most dearly." She cast down her eyes, and a slight rosy colour came up into her cheek; but she answered slowly and firmly, "I have, Richard, I have some time ago; I have seen all, known all, just as well as if your tongue had spoken it." "Then surely, dearest Bessy," responded I, "you could not have given me the encouragement you have, you could not have continued to make yourself all-in-all to me in this world, without resolving to make my love happy, and to be all-in-all to me through life."