Early in June, the Dinsmores repaired to the sea-shore, taking Mildred with them; also little Elsie and her mammy.

The whole summer was spent at watering-places, and Mr. Landreth was generally one of their party.

Mildred enjoyed it, the time spent at the sea-shore, especially, very much in a quiet way, taking no part in the gaieties of the fashionables, but delighting in walks and drives along the beach, and in boating and bathing.

Elsie was fond of a morning stroll on the beach, with "Cousin Milly," Aunt Chloe being always at hand to carry her pet when the little feet grew tired, and Mildred was never averse to the companionship of the sweet child, never in too great haste to accommodate her pace to that of the little one, or to stop to examine and explain whatever excited her curiosity, or to let her pick up sea-weed, shells and pebbles.

Sometimes the other children joined them; occasionally Mr. Landreth also. Later in the day he was almost sure to be Mildred's companion, unless she contrived to elude him.

This she attempted quite frequently toward the latter part of the summer, declining his attentions whenever she could, without positive rudeness.

At first he would not believe it was by design, but at length he could no longer shut his eyes to the fact, and, much disturbed and mortified, he determined to seek an explanation; he must know what was her motive—whether aversion to his society, or fear that he was trifling with her; and if the latter, it should speedily be removed; he would tell her what was the sober truth, that he esteemed and admired her above all the rest of her sex, and would be supremely happy if she would consent to be his wife.

They and their party had left the sea-shore for a fashionable resort among the mountains, where they had now been for a fortnight or more, and where they had found the elder Mr. Landreth and his wife established for the season.

Mildred set out for a walk, one morning, directly after breakfast, taking Elsie and her nurse with her.

They found a cool, shady spot, beside a little brook, at the foot of a hill where the grass was green, and a rustic seat under a spreading tree invited to rest.

They sat down, and Elsie amused herself with throwing pebbles and bits of bark into the water.

"Aunt Chloe," Mildred said, presently, "I want to climb this hill, for the sake of the view; so will leave you and Elsie here. I don't intend to be gone long, but if she gets tired waiting, you can take her back to the house, and I will follow."

So saying, she tripped away back to the road, made her ascent, seated herself upon a log, at a spot which commanded a fine view of the mountain, hill and vale, and taking out her drawing materials, was about to sketch the scene, when a voice addressed her.

"Good-morning, Miss Keith. I am happy to have come upon you just now, and alone.

"I'm quite out of breath with climbing the hill," the voice went on, as Mildred, turning her head, recognized Mrs. Landreth, responded to her greeting, and made room for her on the log. "Thank you; yes, I will sit down here beside you, for I want to rest and to have a little talk with you."

"I am at your service, Mrs. Landreth," Mildred said, closing her sketch-book, recalling as she did so her companion's formerly expressed opinion that such employment was a sinful waste of time, and anticipating a lecture on that subject.

However, the good woman's thoughts were, at that moment, too full of a more important theme to allow her to so much as notice with what the young girl had busied herself.

"My dear," she began, "I have a strong liking and high respect for you; because you seem to me sincerely desirous to do right and live in a Christian way, according to your light. You are gayer, of course, in your dress than I can think quite consistent; but we don't all see alike; and I should be rejoiced to receive you into the family if that might be without the danger to you—spiritually—which it involves."

Mildred rose, her cheeks burning, her eyes flashing.

"When I have shown my desire to enter your family, Mrs. Landreth, it will be time enough to—"

"Ah, my dear, my dear, you quite misunderstand me," interrupted the older lady. "Except for your own sake and your duty as a Christian to marry only in the Lord, I should be delighted. And I've never felt at all sure that Charlie could get you; but I see plainly that he wants you; and so it seemed my duty to warn you not to take him."

Mildred was very angry. Drawing herself up to her full height, and speaking with hauteur, "Excuse me, madam," she said, "if I venture to remind you that unasked advice is seldom acceptable; and if I add that it is especially unpalatable when it involves the meddling with matters too delicate for even the most intimate friend to allude to uninvited."

"What a temper! I begin to think you are none too good for him after all," grimly commented Mrs. Landreth, rising in her turn. "Good-morning, miss," and she stalked away down the hill, while Mildred dropped upon the grass, and hiding her face in her hands, indulged in a hearty cry.

It was a mixture of emotions that brought the tears in those plentiful showers; anger burned still in her breast, yet at the same time she was bitterly remorseful on account of it, sorry and ashamed that she had so disgraced her Christian profession; bringing reproach upon the Master's cause; and—ah, what meant the pang that meddling woman's words had caused? could it be the fear that duty called her to resign that which had become very dear to her heart? Alas, yes! it cried out with a yearning, passionate cry for this love that she must reject, if, indeed, it was offered her.

Did he, indeed, love her? Oh, what joy! what bliss! But, oh, the bitter anguish if she must put that cup of joy aside untasted! How could she? yet how dare she do otherwise? The Bible did speak of marrying only in the Lord; it did say, "Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers."

Some one knelt on the grass at her side, gently lifted up her head and took her hands in his.

"Don't, darling; I cannot bear to see tears in those dear eyes. I know all—I met her, and she told me. How dared she so wound your delicacy! But it is true that I love you; yes, a thousand times better than she can imagine! and that I am utterly unworthy of you. But, Mildred, dearest, sweetest, best of women, give me a little hope, and I will try to become all you can ask."

She could not speak. She tried to hide her blushing face, and to withdraw her hands; but he held them fast, and continued to pour out earnest pleadings and passionate expressions of love and devotion.

"I cannot, oh, I cannot!" she stammered at last. "I'm afraid she is right. Not, oh, not that I am any better than you! but—but we are traveling different roads, and 'how can two walk together except they be agreed?'"

"I would never interfere with your religion," he said. "I know it is different from that which makes my poor uncle's home the most desolate place on earth. O, Mildred, think that you may be the saving of me! I am willing to walk in your road if you will show me the way; even to join the church at once if that will satisfy you."

She looked up wistfully into his face. "Ah, Charlie—Mr. Landreth—is that your idea of what it is to be a Christian? Ah, it is more, much more.

"'With the heart man believeth unto righteousness'—gets the righteousness of Christ put upon him, imputed to him, while holy living proves the reality of the change, the saving nature of his faith—'and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.'

"Do you not see that conversion must come before joining the church?"

"I don't understand these things," he said; "but I am willing to learn. O, Mildred, be my wife, and you may lead me whither you will!"

She shook her head sorrowfully, tears stealing down her cheeks.

"I am too weak, too ready to stray from the path myself, too easily led by those I—"

"Love?" he whispered eagerly, and bending over her, as she paused in confusion, "O, Mildred, darling, say the sweet word! You do love me! you do! I see it in your dear eyes, and I will never despair. But speak the word, dearest, once, just once!"

"Oh, Charlie!" she groaned, covering her face, "I should learn to love you too well to bear the thought that we were not to spend eternity together."

THE END.