There was a perplexed and thoughtful pause.
"Is it in consequence of some rash vow?"
"It is something of the kind," she answered—"some day I may tell you, but, at present you had better leave me; and never, Gilbert, put me to the painful necessity of repeating what I have just now said to you!"—she earnestly added, giving me her hand in serious kindness. How sweet, how musical my own name sounded in her mouth!
"I will not," I replied. "But you pardon this offence?"
"On condition that you never repeat it."
"And may I come to see you now and then?"
"Perhaps,—occasionally; provided you never abuse the privilege."
"I make no empty promises, but you shall see."
"The moment you do, our intimacy is at an end, that's all."
"And will you always call me Gilbert?—it
