might have been lost."

"Neither the leaves nor the writer deserve half the pains you have
taken with them; but I am really sorry for breaking our engagement. I
met an old college friend--there was business too, in the morning--we
dined together--he would take no denial."

"Basil, how pale you look! Are you ill?"

"No; the heat has been a little too much for me--nothing more."

"Has anything happened? I only ask, because if I can be of any use--if
you want me to stay at home--"

"Certainly not, love. I wish you all success and pleasure at the
ball."

For a moment she did not speak; but fixed her clear, kind eyes on me
more gravely and anxiously than usual. Was she searching my heart, and
discovering the new love rising, an usurper already, in the place
where the love of her had reigned before?

Love! love for a shopkeeper's daughter! That thought came again, as
she looked at me! and, strangely mingled with it, a maxim I had often
heard my father repeat to Ralph-- "Never forget that your station is
not yours, to do as you like with. It belongs to us, and belongs to
your children. You must keep it for them, as I have kept it for you."

"I thought," resumed Clara, in rather lower tones than before, "that I
would just look into your room before I went to the ball, and see that