"By the bye, Miss Raymount, last night, as I was turning over some songs I wrote many years ago, I came upon one I thought I should like you just to look at--not the music--that is worth nothing, though I was proud enough of it then and thought it an achievement; but the words I still think are not so bad--considering. They are so far from me now that I am able to speak of them as if they were not mine at all!" "Do let me see them!" said Hester, hiding none of the interest she felt, though fearing a little she might not have to praise them so much as she would like. He took the song from his pocket, and smoothed it out before her on the piano. "Read it to me, please," said Hester. "No; excuse me," he answered with a little shyness, the rarest of phenomena in his spiritual atmosphere; "I _could_ not read it aloud. But do not let it bore you if--" He did not finish his sentence, and Hester was already busy with his manuscript. Here is the song: If thou lov'st I dare not ask thee, Lest thou say, "Not thee;" Prythee, then, in coldness mask thee, That it _may_ be me. If thou lov'st me do not tell me, Joy would make me rave, And the bells of gladness knell me To the silent grave. If thou lovest not thy lover, Neither veil thine eyes, Nor to his poor heart discover What behind them lies. Be not cruel, be not tender; Grant me twilight hope; Neither would I die of splendor, Nor in darkness mope. I entreat thee for no favor, Smallest nothingness; I will hoard thy dropt glove's savor, Wafture of thy dress. So my love shall daring linger! Moth-like round thy flame; Move not, pray, forbidden finger-- Death to me thy blame. Vavasor had gone half-way towards Mrs. Raymount, then turned, and now stood watching Hester. So long was her head bent over his paper that he grew uncomfortably anxious. At length, without lifting her eyes, she placed it on the stand before her, and began to try its music. Then Vavasor went to her hurriedly, for he felt convinced that if she was not quite pleased with the verses, it would fare worse with the music, and begged she would not trouble herself with anything so childish. Even now he knew less about music than poetry, he said. "I wanted you to see the verses, and the manuscript being almost illegible I had to copy it; so, in a mechanical mood, I copied the music also. Please let me have them again. I feared they were not worth your notice! I know it now."