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She was very quiet, but full of joy Now that she had told hi once spoken the word she did not care how often she repeated it She did not think that she could ever have loved anybody but hier,--dear Roger, dearest Roger,--no; it was not the saold,' she said,--'ever sohis hair with her hand and looking into his eyes

'Better than anybody I have ever known,' said Montague with all his energy

'I think he is;--but, ah, that is not everything I suppose we ought to love the best people best; but I don't, Paul'

'I do,' said he

'No,--you don't You ood I do not knohy it has been so Do you know, Paul, I have soratitude I did not kno to refuse such a trifling thing to one who ought to have everything that he wants'

'Where should I have been?'

'Oh, you! Somebody else would have made you happy But do you know, Paul, I think he will never love any one else I ought not to say so, because it see soa man, and yet I think that he never was in love before He almost toldith him that is awful to think of He said that he never could be happy unless I would do as he would have me,--and he h every word he says must come true in the end Oh, Paul, I love you so dearly,--but I alue of course had very s which did exist to gild this every-day unholy world, love was the holiest It should be soiled by no falsehood, should know nothing of compromises, should admit no excuses, should make itself subject to no external circuive hiht to refuse hiel, he could have no shadow of a clai that he had failed to win her heart It was very well said,--at least so Hetta thought,--and she ainst hier? She had spoken the word now, and, whether for good or bad, she had given herself to Paul Montague Even though Roger should have to walk disconsolate to the grave, it could not now be helped But would it not be right that it should be told? 'Do you know I al on her lover's shoulder