, and the movables--belong
to me, in my own name, paid for in papa's notes, and by him transferred
to me to be our home forever, so that a revulsion like yesterday may not
again cross the sill of our door. Does not that deserve a kiss, mamma?"

"I don't believe a word of it," said Mrs. Custis. "This is another trick
to deceive me. I don't accuse you of it, Vesta, but you are the victim
of somebody and your father. Now, who can this man be, so free with his
ready money? It's not the style in Baltimore to promise so liberally as
all that. Have you accepted young Carroll?"

"No, nor thought of him, mamma."

"Then it must be that widower fool, Hynson, ready to sell his negroes
for a second wife like you."

"He has neither been here in body or mind," Vesta said; "never in my
mind."

"That would be a marriage to make a talk: it wouldn't be like you to
bestow so much beauty on a widower. I think there is a certain vulgarity
about an elegant girl marrying a widower. She is so refined, and he is
generally so sleek and sensual. Did you hear from Charles McLane?"

"Nothing, mamma; let me ease your mind by telling you that my husband
lives here in Princess Anne. He was father's creditor, Mr. Meshach
Milburn. He has loved me unknown for years. I saw a way to stop all
scandal and recrimination by marrying him at once, that the society we
know would have but one, and not two, subjects of curiosity. Papa saw me
married last night to Mr. Milburn, and I bear his name this Sabbath
day."

"His wife? Meshach Milburn? The vulgarian in the play-actor's hat? That
man! Daughter, you play with my poor head. It is going again. Oh-h-h!"

"Mother, it is true. I am Mrs. Milburn. My husband is your benefactor."

It was unnecessary to say more, for Mrs. Custis had really fainted.

"Poor mother!" thought Vesta, "I am confirmed in my fear that, if she
had been told of my purpose, she would have opposed it bitterly."

Roxy was summoned to assist Vesta, and after Mrs. Custis had become
conscious, and sighed and cried hysterically, her daughter, sitting in
her lady's rocker, spoke out plainly:

"Mother, I appreciate your disappointment in my marriage, though I
should be the one to make complaint and receive sympathy, instead of
discouragement; but I do not desire it; indeed, I will not permit any
person to disparage my husband, or draw odious comparisons between my
poverty and his exertions. If there are in my body, or my society, any
merits