gathered up my books and turned to go, then he laid down his pen, and
came to me.

"'I believe you and your cousin leave to-day?'

"'Yes. in this evening's boat,' I answered, much as usual.

"'I wish you a safe and pleasant voyage. My kindest adieux to your
cousin. Good-by, Miss Hamilton.'

"He held out his hand. I said 'good-by' as clearly and coldly as
himself. Our hands met but an instant: there was no pressure--no
warmth, and then he opened the door for me to pass. As he did so
our eyes met; his glance was calm and cold, but his lips were firmly
compressed. Had he looked sad, mournful, or tender, I should have
passed out and triumphed; but my overtasked strength gave way; a cold
shudder crept through my frame, and consciousness forsook me. I never
fainted before or since. When I revived, I raised my head and looked
about me, I was reclining on a couch; he kneeling beside me, calmly,
as he would have stood in class. He held my hand, and pressed it
warmly.

"'Are you better now, Florence?'

"'Oh, yes, thank you,' I said, and rose to my feet.

"He still held my hand. I withdrew it, and turned to the door. He
placed himself before it, and said--'Florence, it was well done; you
are an admirable dissembler, but I am not deceived. You love me, and
have for long, yet I freely acknowledge your love can never exceed my