course."

"Did he tell you so?"

"Certainly. He went to see Mr. Horace Manton, with whom he was
associated while abroad. But suppose it had been some winsome,
brown-eyed witch of a woman, instead of a dying man, what then?"

"Then you would have lost your brother, and I my French pronouncing
dictionary,--that is all. Did he leave any message about my grammar
and exercises?"

"No, dear; but he started so hurriedly--so unexpectedly--he had not
time for such trifles. Where are you going?"

"To put away my bonnet and bundle, and look after Stanley, who is
romping with the kittens on the lawn."

The old lady laid down her knitting, leaned her elbows on the arms of
her rocking-chair, and, clasping her hands, bowed her chin upon them,
while a half-stifled sigh escaped her.

"Mischief,--mischief, where I meant only kindness! I sowed good seed,
and reap thistles and brambles! My charity-cake turns out miserable
dough! But how could I possibly foresee that the child would be such a
simpleton? What right has she to be so unnecessarily interested in my
brother, who is old enough to have been her father? It is unnatural,
absurd, and altogether unpardonable in Salome to be guilty of such
presumptuous nonsense; and, of course, it is not in the least my
fault, for the possibility of this piece of mischief never once
occurred to me! True, she is as old as Ulpian's mother was when father
married her; but then Mrs. Grey was not at all in love with her
white-haired husband, and had set her affections solely on that
Mercer-Street house, with marble steps and plate-glass windows. How do
I know that, after all, Salome is not in love with Ulpian's fortune
instead of the dear boy's blue eyes, and handsome hair, and splendid
teeth? However, I ought not to think so harshly of the child, for I
have no cause to consider her calculating and selfish. Poor thing! if
she really cares for him there are breakers ahead of her, for I am
sure that he is as far from falling in love with her as I would be
with the ghost of my great-grandfather's uncle. Thank Providence, all
this troublesome, mischievous, Lucifer machinery of love and marriage
is shut out of heaven, where we shall be as the angels are. Ah,
Salome! I fear you are a giddy young idiot, and that I am a blind old
imbecile, and I wish from the bottom of my heart you had never
darkened my doors."

The quiet current of Miss Jane's secluded life had never been ruffled
by a serious _affaire