new missis."

"None of your tricks!" rejoined she, snapping her fingers at him
playfully. "It was _your_ eye that I saw. If it weren't for making you
vain, I would ask you whether your handsome eyes could be mistaken for
the eyes of one of your negroes. But I want you to go with me to that
bower down there."

"Not to-night, dearest," said he. "I will go with you to-morrow."

"Now is just the time," persisted she. "Bowers never look so pretty
as by moonlight. I don't think you are very gallant to your bride to
refuse her such a little favor."

Thus urged, he yielded, though reluctantly, to her whim. As she
entered the bower, and turned to speak to him, the moonlight fell full
upon her figure. "What a pretty little witch you are!" he exclaimed.
"My Lily Bell, my precious pearl, my sylph! You look like a spirit
just floated down from the moon."

"All moonshine!" replied she, with a smile.

He kissed the saucy lips, and the vines which had witnessed other
caresses in that same bower, a few months earlier, whispered to each
other, but told no tales. She leaned her head upon his bosom, and
looking out upon the winding walks of the garden, so fair and peaceful
in sheen and shadow, she said that her new home was more beautiful
than she had dreamed. "Hark!" said she, raising her head suddenly, and
listening. "I thought I heard a sigh."