he good Doctor, and had not only teased him into pardon of her wild
mirth, before they had reached the parsonage-gate, but had kindled in
him a glow of tenderness that made him utterly forgetful of the terrible
news of the day. Reuben and the spinster, as they followed, talked of
Rose; never had Aunt Eliza spoken so warmly of her charms; but before
him was tripping along, in the moonlight, the graceful figure of Adele,
clinging to the old gentleman's arm, and it is doubtful if his eye did
not feast more upon that vision than his ear upon the new praises of the
spinster.

Yet, for all that, Rose was really charming. The young gentlemen, it
would seem, hardly knew his own heart; and he had a wondrous dream that
night. There was a church, (such as he had seen in the city,) and a
delicately gloved hand, which lay nestling in his; and Mr. Maverick,
oddly enough, appeared to give away a bride, and all waited only for the
ceremony, which the Doctor (with his old white hat and cane) refused to
perform; whereat Phil's voice was heard bursting out in a great laugh;
and the face of Rose, too, appeared; but it was only as a saint upon a
painted window. And yet the face of the saint upon the window was more
distinct than anything in his dream.

The next morning found Miss Eliza harsh and cold. Even the constrained
smile with which she had been used to qualify her "good morning" for
Adele was wanting; and when the family prayers were said, in which the
good Doctor had pleaded, with unction, that the Christian grace of
charity might reign in all hearts, the poor girl had sidled up to Miss
Eliza, and put her hand in the spinster's,--

"You think our little frolic last night to be very wrong, I dare say?"

"Oh, no," said the spinster. "I dare say Mr. Maverick and your French
relatives would approve."

It was not so much the language as the tone which smote on poor Adele,
and brought the tears welling into her eyes.

Reuben, seeing it all, and forgetful of the good parson's plea, gnawed
his lip to keep back certain very harsh utterances.

"Don't think of it, Ady," said he, watching his chance a little later;
"the old lady is in one of her blue moods to-day."

"Do you think I did wrong, Reuben?" said Adele, earnestly.

"I? Wrong, Adele? Pray, what should I have to say about the right or
wrong? and I think the old ladies are beginning to think I have no clear
idea of the difference between them."

"You have, Reuben! you have! An