A M tl N T E R's I, I F E. 73 



everythinjr you ever told nie, I Iwlievcd as firmly as if I 

 had seen it myself; and yet you seem doubtful of inc. J 

 have always had confidence in you, and all my family, 

 except ray father, have a good word for you at all tinies ; 

 and you know that if my mother was not particularly 

 friendly to you, we would not be here together. Really, 

 the sun is getting low, and I must be going. Don't you 

 know what you promised ?" 



She put on her bonnet, and I took her hand, and ou 

 we went. As we walked, I said : "Mary, you never told 

 me you loved me, nor have I ever told you that I loved 

 you, but we are both left to our own conjectures ; yet, if 

 you were to tell me you thought I loved you, I should say 

 you had made a very shrewd and good guess ; and that is 

 all I will tell you." 



This raised a laugh ; and she said we were nearly even, 

 and she supposed there would be no more said about loving 

 each other, but that all Avould be left to conjecture. That 

 being agreed on, we turned our discourse to other subjects, 

 and too soon arrived at her home. We waited for the sun 

 to go down, being bent on having the last minute of our 

 time together ; and in the meantime I apologized for hav- 

 ing given her reason to think that I doubted her sincerity. 

 She readily accepted my acknowledgment, and it seemed 

 as if it had redoubled our affections to each other; indeed. 

 I thought she was the sweetest creature in all creation. 



Notwithstanding all our precaution not to betray ou. 

 love to each other, out came the acknowledgment from 

 both, accompanied by a promise not to make any different 

 engagement without each other's consent, until we should 

 be old enough to marry. We then parted ; I going to my 

 ancle's, and she to her home, fearful of being suspected by 

 her father. But she afterwards told me that he never 

 mentioned it to her. 



My uncle then proposed «•• hunt and a fishing excursion 

 T 



