"Six weeks, Miss Susan!" and then he paused, looking into her eyes,
to see what he could read there. She leant against the table,
pulling to pieces a morsel of half-ravelled muslin which she held in
her hand; but her eyes were turned to the ground, and he could
hardly see them.

"Miss Susan," he continued, "I may as well speak out now as at
another time." He too was looking towards the ground, and clearly
did not know what to do with his hands. "The truth is just this.
I--I love you dearly, with all my heart. I never saw any one I ever
thought so beautiful, so nice, and so good;--and what's more, I
never shall. I'm not very good at this sort of thing, I know; but I
couldn't go away from Saratoga for six weeks and not tell you." And
then he ceased. He did not ask for any love in return. His
presumption had not got so far as that yet. He merely declared his
passion, leaning against the door, and there he stood twiddling his
thumbs.

Susan had not the slightest conception of the way in which she ought
to receive such a declaration. She had never had a lover before;
nor had she ever thought of Aaron absolutely as a lover, though
something very like love for him had been crossing over her spirit.
Now, at this moment, she felt that he was the beau-ideal of manhood,
though his boots were covered with the railway mud, and though his
pantaloons were tucked up in rolls round his ankles. He was a fine,
well-grown, open-faced fellow, whose eye was bold and yet tender,
whose brow was full and broad, and all his bearing manly. Love him!
Of course she loved him. Why else had her heart melted with
pleasure when her mother said that that second picture was to be