There had been a little supper at Mrs Roper's, and Mrs Lupex and Amelia had made the punch.

After supper, he had been by some accident alone with Amelia in the dining-parlour; and when, warmed by the generous god, he had declared his passion, she had shaken her head mournfully, and had fled from him to some upper region, absolutely refusing his proffered embrace.

But on the same night, before his head had found its pillow, a note had come to him, half repentant, half affectionate, half repellent,--"If, indeed, he would swear to her that his love was honest and manly, then, indeed, she might even yet,--see him through the chink of the doorway with the purport of telling him that he was forgiven." Whereupon, a perfidious pencil being near to his hand, he had written the requisite words.

"My only object in life is to call you my own for ever." Amelia had her misgivings whether such a promise, in order that it might be used as legal evidence, should not have been written in ink.

It was a painful doubt; but nevertheless she was as good as her word, and saw him through the chink, forgiving him for his impetuosity in the parlour with, perhaps, more clemency than a mere pardon required.