will have to make a catechism to suit your adult pupil. LOUISA. On the principle of "cross questions and crooked answers, I suppose. No, thank you, Mr. Silchester.-I am not going to be laughed at. I shall take back my yes if you are troublesome. yes SILVESTER.-You can't, without felony. That is mine-I defy you to steal it. Let me tell you. "A couple of thousand years ago There's a legend little girls said No Which they don't say now, you may easily guess. If you look, when the game of love is played, Eve to Adam may have said No, And Eve's career was rather a mess. Into saying lovingly, Yes, Yes, YES." LOUISA. You are a naughty boy. You think you know much more than you really know. I like you; I think I love you; but I can see you are dreadfully vain and conceited. Now I want to talk to you seriously. Suppose we marry? SILVESTER. It is more than a supposition. We are married. I defy any man to approach you after this. LOUISA.-Fierce boy! So you think I am your property? henceforth SILVESTER.-Beyond doubt. Any gentleman who touches those pretty lips will do it at his peril. There's some iron in my blood, Louisa. LOUISA. O you pugnacious boy! I like you all the better for being able to fight, and willing. But, all the same, I mean to keep you in order. Promise-you will obey me. SILVESTER.-When I feel obedient. LOUISA.-Always. I mean you to do what I tell you, and if you don't, I shall punish you. SILVESTER.How? LOUISA. O there are many ways. "Si nocte marita aversa jacuit." I spoil my quantities to suit my notions. I mean to be mistress: so if you object, withdraw. SILVESTER.—I do not object. Still how do you, with your High Church ideas, construe the words, "Love, honour, and obey ? LOUISA. Surely it is not unfair, if you get two-thirds of the prescription: I will love and honour you, and you shall obey me. SILVESTER.-A charming arrangement. I wonder how long will it last? The boy and girl kissed each other, and emerged from Nightingale Lane. ! CHAPTER X. IN LOVE. "Ulcus enim vivescit, et inveterascit alendo." ILVESTER SILCHESTER told his father SILV everything the moment he got home that afternoon he looked for him, found him loitering on the lawn, and confessed what he had done. The Squire laughed. "Tell me all about it," he said. "In Nightingale Lane, eh, you young rascal? Well, it is almost time you began, and you could not find a nicer child than little Louisa ... though, by the way, she is nearly as big as you are, I should think. Come up to the library: I want a book." The Squire stepped through the open window, brought out his favourite Lucretius, and translated to his son upon the lawn, in rough-and-ready hexameters, the last two or three hundred lines of the fourth book de Rerum Natura. Silvester listened most reverently. It was by no means his first introduction to the great poetic interpreter of Epicurus. When the Squire had finished, and shut the book, there was silence for a few minutes. They were standing together, father and son, under a young Canadian oak, which, though about fifty years old only, was at least fifty feet high. "Lucretius Carus was a wise poet, father," said the boy. "He was when he said 'Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid, quod in ipsis floribus angat.' You will find it out, my dear boy. You love Louisa Saint Osyth, and I don't believe |