changed the character of their dialogue. For an hour they ran and chased
each other, and played about, after which Charles took his leave of
them for the evening. Jane, as usual, being the last he parted from,
whispered to him,as he went--

"Charles, promise me, that in future you won't repeat--the--the words
you used in, the summer-house."

"What words, love?" "You remember--about--about--what you said you might
_swear_--and that, in that case, you would cease to love me."

"Why dearest, should I promise you this?" "Because," she said, in a low,
sweet whisper, "they disturb me when I think of them--a slight thing
makes my heart sink."

"You are a foolish, sweet girl--but I promise you, I shall never again
use them."

She bestowed on him a look and smile that were more than a sufficient
compensation for this; and after again bidding him farewell, she tripped
lightly into the house.

From this onward, until the day of their separation, the spirits of our
young lovers were more and more overcast, and the mirthful intercourse
of confident love altogether gone. Their communion was now marked
by despondency and by tears, for the most part shed during their
confidential interviews with each other. In company they were silent and
dejected, and ever as their eyes met in long and loving glances, they
could scarcely repress their grief. Sometimes, indeed, Jane on being
spoken to, after a considerable silence, would attempt in vain to reply,