CHIEFLY

"But," I continued, "don't fret, and don't expect too much of him, or else

he will feel you to be troublesome, and then it is all over."

"All over!" she echoed softly; "then I'll be good. I'll try to be good, Lucy

Snowe."

I put her to bed.

"Will he forgive me this one time?" she asked, as I undressed myself. I

assured her that he would; that as yet he was by no means alienated; that

she had only to be careful for the future.

"There is no future," said she: "I am going. Shall I ever— ever— see him

again, after I leave England?"

I returned an encouraging response. The candle being extinguished, a still

half-hour elapsed. I thought her asleep, when the little white shape once

more lifted itself in the crib, and the small voice asked— "Do you like Gra-

ham, Miss Snowe?"

"Like him! Yes, a little."

"Only a little! Do you like him as I do?"

"I think not. No: not as you do."