mother's grave in the valley, near which her beloved grandfather--the
only father she had ever known--was now sleeping. 'Lena never spoke
of her grandfather without weeping. She could not help it. Her
tears came naturally, as they did when first they told her he was
dead, and now laying her head upon the arm of the sofa, she sobbed
like a child.

Durward's sympathies were all enlisted, and without stopping to
consider the propriety or impropriety of the act, he drew her gently
toward him, trying to soothe her grief, calling her '_Lena_, and
smoothing back the curls which had fallen over her face. As soon as
possible 'Lena released herself from him, and drying her tears,
proposed that they should go over the house, as it was nearly time
for them to return home. Accordingly, they passed on through room
after room, 'Lena's quick eye taking in and appreciating everything
which she saw, while Durward was no less lost in admiration of her,
for speaking of herself so frankly as she had done. Many young
ladies, he well knew, would shrink from acknowledging that their home
was once in a brown, old-fashioned house among wild and rugged
mountains, and 'Lena's truthfulness in speaking not only of this, but
many similar things connected with her early history, inspired him
with a respect of her which he had never before felt for any young
lady of his acquaintance.

But little was said by either of them as they went over the house,
until Durward, prompted by something, he could not resist suddenly
asked his companion "how she would like to be mistress of Woodlawn?"

Had it been Carrie to whom this question was put, she would have
blushed and simpered, expecting nothing short of an immediate offer,