shapes! But, Phoebe, you crossed the threshold; and hope, warmth, and joy came in with you! The black moment became at once a blissful one. It must not pass without the spoken word. I love you!”

“How can you love a simple girl like me?” asked Phoebe, compelled by his earnestness to speak.

“You have many, many thoughts, with which I should try in vain to sympathize. And I, — I, too, — I have tendencies with which you would sympathize as little. That is less matter. But I have not scope enough to make you happy.”

“You are my only possibility of happiness!” answered Holgrave. “I have no faith in it, except as you bestow it on me!”

“And then — I am afraid!”