he said, in a pensive tone, and with a wistful glance:

"You looked very happy just now when I came up. I wish I could
believe that my return had any thing to do with it."

Christie wished she could control her tell-tale color, but finding
she could not, looked hard at the sea, and, ignoring his tender
insinuation, said, with suspicious enthusiasm:

"I was thinking of what Mrs. Saltonstall said this morning. She
asked me if I would like to go to Paris with her for the winter. It
has always been one of my dreams to go abroad, and I do hope I shall
not be disappointed."

Christie's blush seemed to be a truer answer than her words, and,
leaning a little nearer, Mr. Fletcher said, in his most persuasive
tone:

"Will you go to Paris as my governess, instead of Charlotte's?"

Christie thought her reply was all ready; but when the moment came,
she found it was not, and sat silent, feeling as if that "Yes" would
promise far more than she could give. Mr. Fletcher had no doubt what
the answer would be, and was in no haste to get it, for that was one
of the moments that are so pleasant and so short-lived they should
be enjoyed to the uttermost. He liked to watch her color come and
go, to see the asters on her bosom tremble with the quickened
beating of her heart, and tasted, in anticipation, the satisfaction
of the moment when that pleasant voice of hers would falter out its
grateful assent. Drawing yet nearer, he went on, still in the