Now what would have followed in the way of explanations it is
impossible to say, for at the momentous crisis, a voice close by was
heard repeating softly a couplet heard before--

"Dear Marietta,
Never had been
A sweeter or neater
Face or form seen."

The lady started and screamed, and would have fallen had not the
protecting arm of the gentleman been there to catch her.

But her veil fell aside.

When the lover saw her face, he was staggered, and he nearly let her
fall,

"Marietta!" he exclaimed, "Marietta! Mrs. Harkaway's maid, by all
that's wonderful."

"Oho," screamed the lady, "you're standing on my toe!" saying which she
jerked herself back, and dragging his foot away too, down he went.

"It's Mr. Mole," shrieked the lady; and catching up her pink skirt and
black lace flounces, she fled precipitately along the path, leaving her
admirer scrambling in the most undignified manner upon the gravel walk.

Poor Mr. Mole.

But oh, poor Marietta; how sadly was she disappointed with her prince.