to sip.

So Alfred took all the credit of causing those sweet irrelevant blushes;
and gloated: the young wretch could not help glorying in his power to
tint that fair statue of devotion with earthly thoughts.

But stay! that dear blush, was it pleasure or pain? What if the sight of
him was intolerable?

He would know how he stood with her, and on the spot. He was one of the
first to leave the church; he made for the churchyard gate, and walked
slowly backwards and forwards by it, with throbbing heart till she came
out.

She was prepared for him now, and bowed slightly to him with the most
perfect composure, and no legible sentiment, except a certain marked
politeness many of our young ladies think wasted upon young gentlemen;
and are mistaken.

Alfred took off his hat in a tremor, and his eyes implored and inquired,
but met with no further response; and she walked swiftly home, though
without apparent effort. He looked longingly after her; but discretion
forbade.

He now crawled by Albion Villa twice every day, wet or dry, and had the
good fortune to see her twice at the drawing-room window. He was constant
at St. Anne's Church, and one Thursday crept into the aisle to be nearer
to her, and he saw her steal one swift look at the gallery, and look
grave; but soon she detected him, and though she looked no more towards
him, she seemed demurely complacent. Alfred had learned to note these