"Nay; but Alice, hear me."
"No," said Alice, "there is no use in any more angry words. We have both spoken too many already. I will wait till night; then you may speak or not, as you may think best;" and sweeping by her grandmother with an air of proud defiance she had never manifested before, Alice left the room.
During the rest of the day no word was exchanged between this so lately loving pair. In silence they met and passed each other in the performance of their respective daily duties, and in silence each covertly and anxiously scanned the face of the other—but in vain. They were well-matched antagonists, for they were far too much alike in temper and spirit, for either of them to be able to detect one sign of wavering in the other.
But when their evening meal was over, Alice rose in silence and put on her shawl.
"Alice!" cried her grandmother, starting as from a stupor, "where are ye gangin' the night?"
"I am going to the village, as I told you I should."
"Whist! Alice, girl," said Mrs. Campbell,
