“Miss Susan,” he said, “don’t get anything for me, for I’m off.”

“Oh, Mr. Dunn, I am so sorry. You’ll be so hungry on your journey,” and she came out to him in the passage.

“I shall want nothing on the journey, dearest, if you’ll say one kind word to me.”

Again her eyes went to the ground. “What do you want me to say, Mr. Dunn?”

“Say, God bless you, Aaron.”

“God bless you, Aaron,” said she; and yet she was sure that she had not declared her love. He however thought otherwise, and went up to New York with a happy heart.

Things happened in the next fortnight rather quickly. Susan at once resolved to tell her mother, but she resolved also not to tell Hetta. That afternoon she got her mother to herself in Mrs. Bell’s own room, and then she made a clean breast of it.

“And what did you say to him, Susan?”

“I said nothing, mother.”

“Nothing, dear!”

“No, mother; not a word. He told me he didn’t want it.” She forgot how she had used his Christian name in bidding God bless him.

“Oh dear!” said the widow.

“Was it very wrong?” asked Susan.

“But what do you think yourself, my child?” asked Mrs. Bell after a while. “What are your own feelings.”

Mrs. Bell was sitting on a chair and Susan was standing opposite to her against the post of the bed. She made no answer, but moving from her place, she threw herself into her mother’s arms, and hid her face on her mother’s shoulder. It was easy enough to guess what were her feelings.

“But, my darling,” said her mother, “you must not think that it is an engagement.”

“No,” said Susan, sorrowfully.

“Young men say those things to amuse themselves.” Wolves, she would have said, had she spoken out her mind freely.

“Oh, mother, he is not like that.”

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