Finding, however, that she was answered only in monosyllables, she too
grew silent and embarrassed, and heartily wished for the relief of
Elsie's presence.

She had proposed summoning the child to accompany them as usual, but
Mr. Dinsmore replied that she had already had sufficient exercise, and
he would prefer having her remain at home.

They had walked some distance, and coming to a rustic seat where they
had often rested, they sat down. The moon was shining softly down upon
them, and all nature seemed hushed and still. For some moments neither
of them spoke, but at length Mr. Dinsmore broke the silence.

"Miss Allison," he said, in his deep, rich tones, "I would like to
tell you a story, if you will do me the favor to listen."

It would have been quite impossible for Rose to tell why her heart
beat so fast at this very commonplace remark, but so it was; and she
could scarcely steady her voice to reply, "I always find your stories
interesting, Mr. Dinsmore."

He began at once.

"Somewhere between ten and eleven years ago, a wild, reckless boy
of seventeen, very much spoiled by the indulgence of a fond, doting
father, who loved and petted him as the only son of his departed
mother, was spending a few months in one of our large Southern cities,
where he met, and soon fell desperately in love with, a beautiful
orphan heiress, some two years his junior.