thought of her in after-years, and that was often, there arose in
his mind a vision of a tall and lovely girl, her auburn hair slightly
powdered over with the falling flakes, her breast heaving with emotion,
and her wide grey eyes gazing piteously upon him.

"Oh! Leonard," she said nervously, "why do you go without saying
good-bye to me?"

He looked at her awhile before he answered, for something in his heart
told him that this was the last sight which he should win of his love
for many a year, and therefore his eyes dwelt upon her as we gaze upon
one whom the grave is about to hide from us for ever.

At last he spoke, and his words were practical enough.

"You should not have come out in those thin shoes through the snow,
Jane. You will catch cold."

"I wish I could," she answered defiantly, "I wish that I could catch
such a cold as would kill me; then I should be out of my troubles. Let
us go into the summer-house; they will never think of looking for me
there."

"How will you get there?" asked Leonard; "it is a hundred yards away,
and the snow always drifts in that path."

"Oh! never mind the snow," she said.

But Leonard did mind it, and presently he hit upon a solution of the
difficulty. Having first glanced up the drive to see that nobody was