fect weather to go up the river, he was saying; the tide served
just right and would bring them home early; and Miss Prince, who was
alone in the parlor, answered with pleased assurance that she was sure
her niece would like to go. "Yes," said Nan, calling from the window,
urged by a sudden impulse. "Yes indeed, I should like it above all
things; I will get ready at once; will you carry two pairs of oars?"

There was a ready assent, but the uncertainty of the tone of it struck
Anna Prince's quick ear. She seemed to know that the young man and her
aunt were exchanging looks of surprise, and that they felt insecure
and uncertain. It was not the yielding maiden who had spoken to her
lover, but the girl who was his good comrade and cordial friend. The
elder woman shook her head doubtfully; she knew well what this
foreboded, and was impatient at the overthrow of her plans; yet she
had full confidence in the power of Love. She had seen apparent
self-reliance before, and she could not believe that her niece was
invincible. At any rate nothing could be more persuasive than a
twilight row upon the river, and for her part, she hoped more eagerly
than ever that Love would return chief in command of the boat's young
crew; and when the young man flushed a little, and looked at her
appealingly, as he turned to go down the street, his friend and
counselor could not resist giving him a hopeful nod. Nan was
singularly frank, and free from affectations, and she might have
already decided to lower her colors and yield the victory, and it
seemed for a moment that it would be much more like her to do so, than
to invite further contest when she was already won. Miss Prince was
very kind and sympathetic when this explanation had once forced itself
upon her mind; she gave the young girl a most affectionate kiss when
she appeared, but at this unmistakable suggestion of pleasure and
treasured hopes, Nan turned back suddenly into the shaded parlor,
though Mr. Gerry was waiting outside with his favorite oars, which he
kept carefully in a corner of the office.

"Dear Aunt Nancy," said the girl, with evident effort, "I am so sorry
to disappoint you. I wish for your sake that I had been another sort
of woman; but I shall never marry. I know you think I am wrong, but
there is something which always tells me I am right, and I must follow
another way. I should only wreck my life, and other people's. Most
girls have an instinct towards marrying, but min