mimicked her, till she felt ashamed of her good impulse--an impulse
which if she had yielded to, it would have saved her from all the
bitterness she was to know.

"And so you will do as I ask you, darling?"

"Yes."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes," and they sealed the bargain with a kiss.

"Dearest, I must be going. It would never do for Mrs. Tremont to see
us together. I should forget and call you pet names, and then you
would be sent supperless to bed, like the little girls in the story
books."

"I suppose you must go," she said, regretfully.

"It will not be for long," and with another kiss he left her.




CHAPTER IV.

THE MOCK MARRIAGE.


"Thus grief still treads upon the heel of pleasure,