I'll be always thinking of the army. Yes, I'll put on this blue
ribbon-he likes blue, he admired the blue 'forget-me-not' I wore at
Madam Truxton's the first night I ever met him. And these violets
I'll pin on my bosom, they are blue too. I am a silly girl, I fear;
and yet there is a strange aching at my heart. Can it be--Alas! I
cannot speak it. Seven o'clock! He's coming! yes, he is here! I hear
him on the step."

George Marshall looked pale and troubled, as he bade adieu to Mrs.
Heartwell and stepped forth from her neat white cottage on this cool
September morning, accompanied by the young school-mistress. His
thoughtful face bore the impress of a sleepless night, and he was
taciturn and abstracted. By his side Lizzie chatted away, as though
bribed to dispel the gloom and silence that threatened to surround
them-chatted as though no other feeling than gayety filled her own
fearful heart-chatted till a curve in the white sandy road brought
them in view of the river, and under a cluster of wide-spreading
water-oaks that overshadowed a broken mass of stone.

"Miss Heartwell," said George abruptly, "sit here beside me, on
these moss-covered rocks, before we go any farther, and let me tell
you something I've kept unspoken long enough. Will you?"

Lizzie made no reply, but timidly followed where he led, and sat
beside him on the lichen-covered stones. As George Marshall looked
up, a tear stole from her true blue eyes, and moved by this evidence
of emotion, he said with deep-toned pathos:

"Miss Heartwell, I love you, and you know it. If it were not a sin
against the great God, I would say I adore you. May I not hope that