"Oh no, no! you would never offend me." She gave him her whole sweet face. "Then why--why do you leave me?" "Because," she hesitated, "I must go." "No. You must not go. Why must you go? Do not go." "Indeed I must," she said, pulling at the obnoxious broad brim of her hat; and, interpreting a pause he made for his assent to her rational resolve, shyly looking at him, she held her hand out, and said, "Good- bye," as if it were a natural thing to say. The hand was pure white--white and fragrant as the frosted blossom of a Maynight. It was the hand whose shadow, cast before, he had last night bent his head reverentially above, and kissed--resigning himself thereupon over to execution for payment of the penalty of such daring--by such bliss well rewarded. He took the hand, and held it, gazing between her eyes. "Good-bye," she said again, as frankly as she could, and at the same time slightly compressing her fingers on his in token of adieu. It was a signal for his to close firmly upon hers. "You will not go?" "Pray, let me," she pleaded, her sweet brows suing in wrinkles. "You will not go?" Mechanically he drew the white hand nearer his thumping heart. "I must," she faltered piteously. "You will not go?" "Oh yes! yes!" "Tell me. Do you wish to go?" The question was a subtle one. A moment or two she did not answer, and then forswore herself, and said, Yes. "Do you--you wish to go?" He looked with quivering eyelids under hers. A fainter Yes responded. "You wish--wish to leave me?" His breath went with the words. "Indeed I must." Her hand became a closer prisoner. All at once an alarming delicious shudder went through her frame. From him to her it coursed, and back from her to him. Forward and back love's electric messenger rushed from heart to heart, knocking at each, till it surged tumultuously against the bars of its prison, crying out for its mate. They stood trembling in unison, a lovely couple under these fair heavens of the morning. When he could get his voice it said, "Will you go?" But she had none to reply with, and could only mutely bend upward her gentle wrist. "Then, farewell!" he said, and, dropping his lips to the soft fair hand, kissed it, and hung his head, swinging away from her, ready for death. Strange, that now she was released she should linger by him. Strange, that his audacity, instead of the executioner, brought blushes and timid tenderness to his side, and the sweet words, "You are not angry with me?" "With you, O Beloved!" cried his soul. "And you forgive me, fair charity!" "I think it was rude of me to go without thanking you again," she said, and again proffered her hand.