bearable, which left room for all the sweeter musings, of which _she_ was the centre. He sat down on the root of a tree, and let himself breathe. Then came the first notes of the voluntary, and a distant hum as of the congregation dispersing. Few people were likely to come here at this hour in the morning, but still Purcell felt that he had but a moment in which to indulge himself, and that soon he must turn back. As he sat thus trying to collect himself, a sudden sound close by, the rustle of a dress among the bushes, the soft sound of a footstep caught his ear. He looked up--and his heart jumped into his throat. There She stood before him, a little basket in her hand. There was a by-way into the town by the slopes, and Lottie had been about her marketing. She was in her usual simple morning frock, clean print and nothing more, and though her head was sufficiently full of dreams and her mind of anxieties, she was at present lingering upon neither, but going straight from one place to another, as became the active morning hour and the consciousness of various things to do. When she saw Purcell spring to his feet suddenly in the midst of the path, for the moment Lottie was startled. She made him a little gracious but indifferent sign of recognition, as courtesy required--for ridiculous as were the notions in his head, she could not be rude to him--and was passing on, not wanting any further parley, when she was struck by the agitation in his face. He was staring at her as if she had been a ghost--his mouth was open, his breath coming quick, his colour changing. Excitement did not improve his appearance. She had almost laughed, then checked herself remorsefully, and became so much the more sympathetic for her temporary movement of mirth. “Is there anything the matter?” she said kindly. “I am afraid you are ill. Has anything--gone wrong?” She did not know what to say, he looked at her with such solemn eyes. “Oh, nothing--nothing has gone wrong. I am not ill. Miss Despard--I did not expect to see you here.” “No--but I hope it is not I who have frightened you,” said Lottie. “I sometimes go to the Bridge road this way.” “You have not frightened me,” said Purcell, who found it easier to repeat her words than to say anything original; “but I--did not know you went this way.” It was all that Lottie could do, once more, to keep herself from laughing. She gave him a little nod, and was about to pass, saying, “What a lovely morning it is!” the stereotyped English remark; when he made a hurried step after her, and, holding up his hands, entreated her, in a piteous voice, to stay a moment. “Miss Despard--what startled me was that I was looking for you. Oh, stay a moment, and let me speak to you!” he said.