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vigorous in all her movements, dressed in sober colours, with perfect taste of form and blending hues; her lineaments plain, and rather large, her complexion freckled, hair of a somewhat leaden auburn, arranged with faultless neatness, and eyes that spoke straight to the souls they gazed on, by virtue of that within which gave them their charm.

'She is worth a thousand beauties!' said young Bertram to himself; that is the sort of woman to raise a man above himself, and make him worthy of her love. As for what Honor thought—what shall I say of her? He insisted on walking home with her that first evening. Honor was not ignorant of French etiquette on this point. She indeed, in her position of teacher, had the tacit permission of the good folk of Bayonne to thread their town alone, without remark; but Conny never went abroad without fitting escort, and neither sister ever walked alone with any gentleman, not even Mr. Tracy.

Honor demurred, and felt a little uncomfortable, when Spencer said he would see her home. Edith had bid her farewell at the door,

and she thought he would leave her at the garden-gate, but she soon found her mistake; and if it was at first rather embarrassing, it was so delightful!

Was it not strange, that in that grey twilight, the Cambo woods shone gayer and fairer than in the warmest sunshine?

It was the first of many such walks, of excursions by hill and valley-where, though both families were nominally present, these two saw only each other, of long days together, within doors and without, when music, art, poetry, and every common incident of life, all became the slaves of love, and did the blind god's bidding, as they have done in ages past, and will to the end of time.

CHAPTER III

VOUS AVEZ PERDU LES INDES.'

T was in that Cambo wood that Spencer, one evening in early June, told his

love-told it in glowing words to wondering Honor: she, who never had been loved, save perhaps by little Emmy, before.

The thought dazzled and confused her, as boundless wealth flung suddenly to some starving wretch might do.

'Think again,' she said humbly, I am not like you. I am not beautiful; how can you love me? Oh, do not let me deceive myself! It will make no difference with me. I should, at least I think I should, always have felt towards you much as I do, if you had never said what you have, and I should not have minded much; but oh, do not let me believe you love me, and then-then-' Her voice broke

down at this point, and Spencer caught her in his arms, and kissed away her tears, and swore to be true for ever.

Could shé doubt longer?

'My queen!' he said; 'you shall do with me what you will! You shall give all my efforts stability, and show me the way to excel! You shall be the teacher and guide, and I will make you proud of me! I will redeem all my lost time and opportunities with you to lean upon, you to love me!'

And Honor accepted the office thankfully.

No thought crossed her mind that it was the man's part to support and guide the woman; no wish to be in her turn comforted and loved.

To cherish, to serve, to shelter from all possible care the beloved one, as a mother does her child-such is the love of the Honors of the world, such their theory of life's joys and duties.

The old, old story-the one who loves and the one who generously submits to the process of being loved. Not that Spencer did not at that moment love or believe he loved Honor. His swan-appreciated at last by him alone, of

all the world—as he called her in playful allusion to the 'ugly duckling' of Hans Andersen's story; her very want of beauty elevated his new passion in his own eyes, and robed it with as much of unselfishness as ever belonged to the emotions of that young man.

Could Honor doubt him! Could she do aught but surrender herself to this delicious day-dream, and wonder if she could ever, ever love him in return one half so well as he deserved!

Then Spencer went on to tell her of his Brazilian home, which should be hers; and he begged that, for a short time at least, their engagement should be secret, even from Edith.

This was Spencer Bertram's way. He dearly loved a little mystery. There was really no need for one in the present instance, only some letters he expected shortly from Brazil would tell him whether he must return there at once or not, and till these arrived he begged Honor to be silent about their love.

She agreed, not willingly, but because she could refuse him nothing. He was about to

VOL. II.

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