The coveted opportunity offered itself at last, quite unexpectedly. Coming
out upon the veranda one afternoon, he saw Elsie sitting alone under a
tree far down on the lawn. He hastened towards her.

"I am glad to see you," she said, looking up with a smile and making room
for him on the seat by her side. "You see I am 'lone and lorn,' Mr. Durand
having carried off papa to look at some new improvement in his sugar-house
machinery."

"Ah! and when will your father return?"

"In about an hour, I presume. Shall you attend Aunt Adie's wedding?" she
asked.

"Yes, I think so. Don't you sometimes feel as if you'd like to stay here
altogether?"

"Yes, and no; it's very lovely, and the more charming I believe, because
it is my own; but--there is so much more to bind me to the Oaks, and I
could never live far away from papa."

"Couldn't you? I hoped---- Oh, Elsie, couldn't you possibly love some one
else better even than you love him? You're more to me than father, mother,
and all the world beside. I have wanted to tell you so for years, but
while I was comparatively poor your fortune sealed my lips. Now I am rich,
and I lay all I have at your feet; myself included; and----"

"Oh, Harold, hush!" she cried in trembling tones, flushing and paling by
turns, and putting up her hand as if to stop the torrent of words he was
pouring forth so unexpectedly that astonishment had struck her dumb for an