to go with them."
"Dearest Bee, I am very grateful; but why should you give me all these things?" inquired Ishmael, in surprise.
"Because you are going away from home, and you will want them. Yes, you will, Ishmael, though you don't think so now. Often business will detain you out in the evening until after your boarding-house supper is over. Then how nice to have the means at hand to get a comfortable little meal for yourself in your own room without much trouble. Why, Ishmael, we always put up such a box as this for Walter when he leaves us. And do you think that mamma or I would make any difference between you?"
"You have always been a dear—yes, the dearest of sisters to me! and some day, Bee—" He stopped, and looked around. The maids were at some distance, but still he felt that the family storeroom was not exactly the place to say what was on his heart for her, so he whispered the question:
"How long will you be engaged here, dear Bee?"
"Until tea time. It will take me quite as long as that to get through what I have to do."
"And then, Bee?"
"Then I shall be at leisure to pass this last evening with you, Ishmael," answered Bee, meeting his wish with the frankness of pure affection.
"And will you walk with me in the garden after tea? It will be our last stroll together there," he said rather sadly.
"Yes; I will walk with you, Ishmael. The garden is lovely just at sunset."
"Thank you, dearest Bee. Ah! how many times a day I have occasion to speak these words!"
"I wish you would leave them off altogether, then, Ishmael. I always understand that you thank me far more than I deserve."
"Never! How could I? 'Thank you!' they are but two words. How could they repay you, Bee? Dearest, this evening you shall know how much I thank you. Until then, farewell." He pressed her hand and left her.
Now Ishmael was far too clear-sighted not to have seen that Bee had fixed her pure maidenly affections upon him, and to see also that Bee's choice was well approved by her parents, who had long loved him as a son. While Ishmael's hands had been busy with the book- packing his thoughts had been busy with Bee and with the problem that her love presented him. He had loved Claudia with an all- absorbing passion. But she had left him and married another, and so stricken a deathblow to his love. But this love was dying very hard, and in its death-struggles was rending and tearing the heart which was its death-bed.
And in the meantime Bee's love was alive and healthy, and it was fixed on him. He was not insensible, indifferent, ungrateful for this dear love. Indeed, it was the sweetest solace that he had in this world. He felt in the profoundest depths of his heart all the loveliness of Bee's nature. And most tenderly he loved her—as a younger sister. What then should he do? Offer to Bee the poor, bleeding heart that Claudia had played with, broken, and cast aside as worthless? All that was true, noble, and manly in Ishmael's nature responded:
"God forbid!"
But what then should he do? Leave her to believe him insensible, indifferent, ungrateful? Strike such a deathblow to her loving heart as Claudia had stricken to his? All that was generous, affectionate and devoted in Ishmael's nature cried out: "No! forbid it, angels in heaven!"
But what then could he do? The magnanimity of his nature answered:
"Open your heart to her; that she may know all that is in it; then lay that heart at her feet, for accepting or rejecting."
And this he resolved to do. And this resolution sent him to beg this interview with Bee. Yet before going to keep it he determined to speak to Mr. Middleton. He felt certain that Mr. Middleton would indorse his addresses to his daughter; yet still his fine sense of honor constrained him to seek the consent of the father before proposing to the daughter. And with this view in mind immediately upon leaving Bee he sought Mr. Middleton.
He found that gentleman walking about in the garden, enjoying his afternoon cigar. In these afternoon promenades Mr. Middleton, who was the shorter and slighter as well as the older man, often did Ishmael the honor of leaning upon his arm. And now Ishmael went up to his side and with a smile silently offered the usual support.
"Thank you, my boy! I was just feeling the want of your friendly arm. My limbs are apt to grow tired of walking before my eyes are satiated with gazing or my mind with reflecting on the beauty of the summer evening," said Mr. Middleton, slipping his arm within that of Ishmael.
"Sir," said the young man, blushing slightly, "a selfish motive has brought me to your side this afternoon."
"A selfish motive, Ishmael! I do not believe that you are capable of entertaining one," smiled Mr. Middleton.
"Indeed, yes, sir; you will say so when you hear of it."
"Let me hear of it, then, Ishmael, for the novelty of the thing."
The young man hesitated for a few moments and then said:
"Mr. Middleton—Mr. Brudenell has, I believe, put you in possession of the facts relative to my birth?"
"Yes, my dear Ishmael; but let me assure you that I did not need to be told of them. Do you remember the conversation we had upon the subject years ago? It was the morning after the school party when that miserable craven, Alfred Burghe, disgraced himself by insulting you. You said, Ishmael, 'My mother was a pure and honorable woman! Oh, believe it!' I did believe it then, Ishmael; for your words and tones and manner carried irresistible conviction to my mind. And every year since I have been confirmed in my belief. You, Ishmael, are the pledge of your parents' honor as well as of their love. 'Men do not gather grapes of thorns, nor figs of thistles,'" said Mr. Middleton earnestly.
"And yet, sir, I have suffered and may again suffer reproach that neither myself nor my parents deserved," said Ishmael gravely.
"You never will again, Ishmael. You have overcome the world."
"Thank you! thank you, sir! I purposely reminded you of this old injustice. You do not regard me the less for having suffered it?"
"The less! No, my boy; but the more, for having overcome it!"
"Again I thank you from the depths of my heart. You have known me from boyhood, Mr. Middleton; and you may be said to know my character and my prospects better than anyone else in the world does; better, even, than I know them myself."
"I think that quite likely to be true."
"Well, sir, I hope in a few years to gain an established reputation and a moderate competency by my practice at the bar."
"You will gain fame and wealth, Ishmael."
"Well, sir, if ever by the blessing of Heaven I do attain these distinctions, taking everything else into consideration, would you, sir, would you then—"
"What, Ishmael? Speak out, my boy?"
"Accept me as a son?"
"Do you want me to give you Bee?" gravely inquired Mr. Middleton.
"When I shall be more worthy of her, I do."
"Have you Bee's consent to speak to me on this subject?"
