ur own wooing
to a happy conclusion, I shall be happy, in my special capacity of
parson, to perform the ceremony required."

"_Dii meliora_!" said Kenelm, gravely. "Some ills are too serious to be
approached even in joke. As for Miss Travers, the moment you call her
benevolent you inspire me with horror. I know too well what a benevolent
girl is,--officious, restless, fidgety, with a snub nose, and her pocket
full of tracts. I will not go to the harvest-supper."

"Hist!" said the Parson, softly. They were now passing the cottage of
Mrs. Somers; and while Kenelm was haranguing against benevolent girls,
Mr. Lethbridge had paused before it, and was furtively looking in at the
window. "Hist! and come here,--gently."

Kenelm obeyed, and looked in through the window. Will was seated; Jessie
Wiles had nestled herself at his feet, and was holding his hand in both
hers, looking up into his face. Her profile alone was seen, but its
expression was unutterably soft and tender. His face, bent downwards
towards her, wore a mournful expression; nay, the tears were rolling
silently down his cheeks. Kenelm listened and heard her say, "Don't talk
so, Will, you break my heart; it is I who am not worthy of you."

"Parson," said Kenelm, as they walked on, "I must go to that confounded
harvest-supper. I begin to think there is something true in the
venerable platitude about love in a cottage. And Will Somers must be
married in haste, in order to repent at leisure."

"I don't see why a man should repent having married a good girl whom he
loves."

"You don't? Answer me candidly. Did you ever meet a man who repented
having married?"

"Of course I have; very often."

"Well, think again, and answer as candidly. Did you ever meet a man who
repented not having married?"

The Parson mused, and was silent.

"Sir," said Kenelm, "your reticence proves your honesty, and I respect
it." So saying, he bounded off, and left the Parson crying out wildly,
"But--but--"

CHAPTER XXI.

MR. SAUNDERSON and Kenelm sat in the arbour: the former sipping his grog
and smoking his pipe; the latter looking forth into the summer night
skies with an earnest yet abstracted gaze, as if he were trying to count
the stars in the Milky Way.

"Ha!" said Mr. Saunderson, who was concluding an argument; "you see it
now, don't you?"

"I? not a bit of it. You tell me that your grandfather was a farmer,
and your father was a farmer, and that you have been a farme