Essie laughed a little, and said, “A month ago!  Sometimes it seems a very long time, and sometimes a very short one.”

“I hope it seems a very long time that you have known me.”

“Well, Johnny and all the rest had known you ever so long,” answered she, with a confusion of manner that expressed a good deal more than the words.  “I really must go—-”

“Not till you have told me more than that,” cried Cecil, seizing his opportunity with a sudden rush of audacity.  “If you know me, can you-—can you like me?  Can’t you?  Oh, Essie, stay!  Could you ever love me, you peerless, sweetest, loveliest—-”

By this time Mrs. Brownlow, who had heard Cecil’s boots on the stairs, and particularly wished to stave matters off till after the Friar’s mission, had made a hasty conclusion of her lesson, and letting her girls depart, opened the door.  She saw at once that she was too late; but there was no retreat, for Esther flew past her in shy terror, and Cecil advanced with the earnest, innocent entreaty, “Oh, Mrs. Brownlow, make her hear me!  I must have it out, or I can’t bear it.”

“Oh,” said she, “it has come to this, has it?” speaking half-quaintly, half-sadly, and holding Lina kindly back.

“I could not help it!” he went on.  “She did look so lovely, and she is so dear!  Do get her down, that I may see her again.  I shall not have a happy moment till she answers me.”

“Are you sure you will have a happy moment then?”

“I don’t know.  That’s the thing!  Won’t you help a fellow a bit, Mrs. Brownlow?  I’m quite done for.  There never was any one so nice, or so sweet, or so lovely, or so unlike all the horrid girls in society!  Oh, make her say a kind word to me!”

“I’ll make her,” said little Lina, looking up from her aunt’s side.  “I like you very much, Captain Evelyn, and I’ll run and make Essie tell you she does.”

“Not quite so fast, my dear,” said her aunt, as both laughed, and Cecil, solacing himself with a caress, and holding the little one very close to him on his knee, where her intentions were deferred by his watch and appendages.

“I suppose you don’t know what your mother would say?” began Mrs. Brownlow.

“I have not told her, but you know yourself she would be all right.  Now, aren’t you sure, Mrs. Brownlow?  She isn’t up to any nonsense?”

“No, Cecil, I don’t think she would oppose it.  Indeed, my dear boy, I wish you happiness, but Esther is a shy, startled little being, and away from her mother; and perhaps you will have to be patient.”

“But will you fetch her-—or at least speak to her?” said he, in a tone not very like patience; and she had to yield, and be the messenger.

She found Esther fluttering up and down her room like a newly-caught bird.  “Oh, Aunt Carey, I must go home!  Please let me!” she said.

“Nay, my dear, can’t I help you for once?” and Esther sprang into her arms for comfort; but even then it was plain to a motherly eye that this was not the distress that poor Bobus had caused, but rather the agitation of a newly-awakened heart, terrified at its own sensations.  “He wants you to come and hear him out,” she said, when she had kissed and petted the girl into more composure.