ever puts in force against another."

"I don't know what this can mean. Squire Clamp is cruel enough, I know;
but mother, surely, would never approve such conduct."

"After all, the mortification is the principal thing; for, with what I
have, and what Uncle can raise for me, I can pay the debt. I have said too
much already, Mildred. I don't want to put any of my burdens on your
little shoulders. In fact, I am quite ashamed of having spoken on the
subject at all; but I have so little concealment, that it popped out
before I thought twice."

They were approaching the house, both silent, neither seeming to be bold
enough to touch the tenderer chords that thrilled in unison.

"Mildred," said Mark, "I don't know how much is meant by this suit. I
don't know that I shall be able to see you again, unless it be casually,
in the street, as to-night, (blessed accident!)--but remember, that,
whatever may happen, I am always the same that I have been to you."

Here his voice failed him. With such a crowd of memories,--of hopes and
desires yet unsatisfied,--with the crushing burden of debt and poverty,--
he could not command himself to say what his heart, nevertheless, ached in
retaining. Here he was, with the opportunity for which during all his
boyhood he had scarcely dared to hope, and yet he was dumb. They were at
the gate, under the dense shade of the maples.

"Good-night, dear Mildred!" said Mark.

He took her hand, which was fluttering as by electrical influence, and