think of your uncle, Rosalind?" she asked.

"You certainly have the gift for asking pointed questions," Allan
remarked, before Rosalind could speak. "I can tell you what she expected.
She had an idea that I resembled Uncle Allan Barnwell."

"Gracious! You must be relieved. I could have told you better than that."

"I didn't really think it; I only wondered," said Rosalind.

Miss Betty laughed in a reminiscent sort of way. "Do you remember him,
Allan? But no, I fancy you were too little. He used to visit at our house
when I was a child, and I was never so afraid of any one. I suppose you
have heard the story of his wedding?"

"I have a dim recollection of the story. Tell it to Rosalind."

"Well," she began, "Uncle Allan was a minister, you know. A Presbyterian
of the sternest stuff, rich in eloquence and power of argument, but poor
in this world's goods. However, he judiciously fell in love with Matilda
Greene, the only daughter of a wealthy Baltimore merchant. As was natural,
Matilda chose for her wedding-gown a gorgeous robe of white satin, and all
the preparations for the event were on a lavish scale. When the day came
and the guests had assembled, and the bride in her beautiful gown and lace
veil appeared before the eyes of the bridegroom, Uncle Allan created a
sensation by sternly declaring that such a dress was inappropriate for the
bride of a humble minister of the Gospel.

"And the meek Matilda, instead of telling him he could marry her as she
was or not at all, took off her satin, put on a simple muslin, and the
ceremony was performed. Uncle Allan always referred to his wife as 'My
Matilda'; and if the truth were known, I fancy she couldn't call her soul
her own."

"I remember the story," said Allan, laughing. "We come of a stubborn
family. What would have happened if Matilda had asserted herself?"

"He had her at a disadvantage,--the guests waiting,--but she missed the
chance of a lifetime," said Miss Betty.

"Was Matilda fond of him?" asked Rosalind.

"Let us hope so; at any rate she always spoke of him as 'My Allan.'"

CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.

AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN.

"The house doth keep itself,
There's none within."

It was plain to Rosalind that for some reason her uncle did not wish to
discuss the ring; nor did he seem to care whether or not it was found. It
was also plain that he did not agree with his mother and sister on the
question of the will.

On one occasion when Gene