He was by her side in a minute, and his dark, handsome face lighted up with joy.
"How the sun shines!" he said.

"I wonder the birds begin to sing and the flowers to bloom before you are out, Miss Earle." "But I am not their sun," replied Beatrice with a smile.
"But you are mine," cried Hugh; and before she could reply he was kneeling at her feet, her hands clasped in his, while he told her of the love that was wearing his life away.
No one could listen to such words unmoved; they were true and eloquent, full of strange pathos.

He told her how dark without her the future would be to him, how sad and weary his life; whereas if she would only love him, and let him claim her when he returned, he would make her as happy as a queen.

He would take her to the bright sunny lands--would show her all the beauties and wonders she longed to see--would buy her jewels and dresses such as her beauty deserved--would be her humble, devoted slave, if she would only love him.
It was very pleasant--the bright morning, the picturesque glade, the warmth and brightness of summer all around.

Beatrice looked at the handsome, pale face with emotion, she felt Hugh's warm lips pressed to her hand, she felt hot tears rain upon her fingers, and wondered at such love.