e, Mrs.
Jameson leading--almost pulling--along her daughter, and Harry
pressing close at her side, with his arm half extended as if to
protect his sweetheart. Mrs. Jameson kept turning and addressing him;
we could hear the angry clearness of her voice, though we could not
distinguish many words; and finally, when they were almost past we
saw poor Harriet also turn to him, and we judged that she, as well as
her mother, was begging him to go, for he directly caught her hand,
gave it a kiss, said something which we almost caught, to the effect
that she must not be afraid--he would take care that all came out
right--and was gone.

"Oh, dear," sighed Louisa, and I echoed her. I did pity the poor
young things.

To our surprise, and also to our dismay, it was not long before we
saw Mrs. Jameson hurrying back, and she turned in at our gate.

Louisa jumped and lighted the lamp, and I set the rocking-chair for
Mrs. Jameson.

"No, I can't sit down," said she, waving her hand. "I am too much
disturbed to sit down," but even as she said that she did drop into
the rocking-chair. Louisa said afterward that Mrs. Jameson was one
who always would sit down during all the vicissitudes of life, no
matter how hard she took them.

Mrs. Jameson was very much disturbed; we had never seen her calm
superiority so shaken; it actually seemed as if she realized for once
that she was not quite the peer of circumstances, as Louisa said.

"I wish to inquire if you have known long of this shameful
clandestine love affair of my daughter's?" said she, and Louisa and I
were nonplussed. We did not know what to say. Luckily, Mrs. Jameson
did not wait for an answer; she went on to pour her grievance into
our ears, without even stopping to be sure whether they were
sympathizing ones or not.

"My daughter cannot marry into one of these village families," said
she, without apparently the slightest consideration of the fact that
we were a village family. "My daughter has been very differently
brought up. I have other views for her; it is impossible; it must be
understood at once that I will not have it."

Mrs. Jameson was still talking, and Louisa and I listening with more
of dismay than sympathy, when who should walk in but Caroline Liscom
herself.

She did not knock--she never does; she opened the door with no
warning whatsoever, and stood there.

Louisa turned pale, and I know I must have. I could not command my
voice, though I tried hard to kee