This was not what he intended to say--but he had said it, and now he
waited for her answer. To the first question it came in a decided "No,
I do not love him," and to the last it came in burning blushes,
stealing over her cheek--her forehead--her neck, and speaking in her
downcast eye. She had never believed that she did love her guardian,
until told that he wished her to marry another, when it burst upon her
in all its force, and she could no more conceal it now than she could
stop the rapid beatings of her heart. He saw it all in her tell-tale
face, and forgetting everything, he wound his arms around her, and
drawing her to his side, whispered in her ear, "Darling, Rosamond, say
that you love me. Let me hear that assurance once, and I shall be
almost willing to die."

"Ladies do not often confess an attachment until sure it is returned,"
was Rosamond's answer, and doubly forgetful now of all the dreary
past, Ralph Browning poured into her ear hot, burning words of love--
hugging her closer and closer to him until through the open window
came the sound of Mrs. Peters' voice calling to the stranger girl who
had that morning entered service at Riverside as a waiting-maid in
general. _Maria_ was the name, and as the ominous word fell upon Mr.
Browning's ear, he started, and pushing Rosamond from him, turned
his face away so she could not see the expression of mute despair
settling down upon it. Sinking upon the lounge he buried his face in
its cushions while Rosamond looked curiously upon him, feeling sure
that she knew what it was that so affected him. He had told her of his
love--had said that she was dearer to him than his life, and in
confessing this he had forgotten the dark shadow upon his life, and it
was the dread of telling it to her--the pain of saying "I love you,
but you cannot be my wife," which affected him so strangely. But she