some revived from old memories, and some produced by the singular events
of the day and hour, agitated her frame.

"I am going to surprise you, cousin," he said, while he fixed his eye
upon her, as if to watch the effect of his words.

Rachel forgot for a moment the philosophy of Paul--why should one be
surprised when the thing that is to be is a result of a change in
something else as old as Aldebaran, let alone "the sun and the seven
stars?" She was indeed prepared for a surprise.

"It is just the old story of the heart," he resumed. "Our intercourse
began so early, and partook so much of that of mere relations, that I
never could tell when the mere social feeling gave place to another
which I need not mention. You know, Rachel, what I mean."

She was silent because she was distrustful, yet her heart beat bravely
in spite of her efforts; for was not this man the object of her love,
and is not love moved with an eloquence which makes reason ashamed of
her poor figures and modes?

"Yes," he went on, "I take it for granted that you know I am only
labouring towards a confession. Yes, dear heart, for years I have
considered you as the one sole object in all this world of fair visions
formed to make me happy. You see I cannot get out of the ordinary mode
of speech. The lover is fated to adjure, to praise, and to petition
always in the same set form of words; yet is not the confession enough?"

"So far," said she; "but I have never seen any evidence of all this;" as
if she wanted more in the same strain--sweet to the ear, though