ducing an entanglement in the pony's redundant, hoary mane. Then suddenly turning to me, and fixing his shy, hazel eyes upon me with a steady penetrating gaze, he added, "Then you have changed your mind?"
"I can't say that I have exactly. No; I think I hold the same opinion respecting her as before—but slightly ameliorated."
"Oh." He looked round for something else to talk about; and glancing up at the moon, made some remark upon the beauty of the evening, which I did not answer, as being irrelevant to the subject.
"Lawrence," said I, calmly looking him in the face, "are you in love with Mrs. Graham?"
Instead of his being deeply offended at this, as I more than half expected he would, the first start of surprise, at the audacious question, was followed by a tittering laugh, as if he was highly amused at the idea.
"I in love with her!" repeated he. "What makes you dream of such a thing?"
