A II li NT KU 's I, I F K. 31 



I said this in tlic )>rosencc of Mary, whom 1 liad pm- 

 mised that I shouhl return aj^aiii some time or other. I 

 did not mean exactly what I said ; ijut I knew it was what 

 he wished for, and, that in hopes of this beinp; the last 

 vii;it I would pay to his house, he would not object to my 

 having a last talk with Mary. 



While I talked to the old man, I saw that Mary listened 

 with attention, and I knew what she had in her mind about 

 what I had told her. I watched the old man closely, and 

 l)resently he began to ask questions of the boys about the 

 horses and the stable, when he took his hat and went out 

 to the barn. This was my time : I whispered to Mary, and 

 informed her I had told her father such a tale, and thai I 

 did it in hopes the old man would not be so bad as to prevent 

 me from having an evening talk with her, which I had 

 much desired since I saw her last. I asked her if she 

 would venture to undertake it in the presence of her 

 father ? After a little hesitation, she said she could only 

 try it, and if he cut any capers, I must stop short, and 

 wait till another opportunity to see her. This being 

 agreed on, I went to the barn, and helped to feed the 

 stock. It was quite night, dark, and very cold. Well, 

 thought I, let what may come, I will try my luck. So, 

 when I thought the right time had come, with trembling 

 limbs and beating heart, I drew up iny chair by the side 

 of Mary, as she sat knitting. I was half-choked with fear 

 ;f the old man, and so much embarrassed, that it was 

 Bome minutes before I could speak a single word ; but to 

 my great satisfaction, the old man went off to bed. 



"Stand still, boy," Mary said, with a sweet smile; 

 " what is the matter with you ? I believe you are spee<'h- 

 less." 



" No, no, Mary," said I ; " but I was afraid that your 

 father would turn me out this cold night, and that T would 

 have no chance to see you again before I started to the 



