n of
his _'Ich'_. He hastens across the dark blue sea; soon will she
behold him at her feet."

"Alas, poor gypsy, thou hast lost thy silver penny this time. The
letter is indeed from Cousin Harry, and that of itself is one of
life's wonders. But it is addressed with all propriety to his
'venerable uncle.' He arrived from Europe a month since, and being now
on a tour for health and pleasure, proposes to make a hasty call on
his relatives and visit the old homestead. He brings his bride with
him. Now, Kate, be stirring; they will be here to-night, and we must
look our prettiest."

"The hateful, prosy man! I'll not do anything to make his visit
agreeable," said I, pettishly.

"Why, Kate, what are you conjuring up in your foolish little noddle?"

"Oh, I supposed an _eclaircissement_ would come round somehow,
and we should finish the romance in style."

"Why, Kate, do you really wish to get rid of me?"

"No, indeed! I wouldn't have you accept his old withered heart for the
world. But I wanted you to have the triumph of rejecting it. 'Indeed,
my dear cousin,'--thus you should have said,--'I shall always be
interested in you as a kinsman, but I can never love you.'"

"Kate is crazed!" she exclaimed, in a voice of despair. "Why, dear
child, there is not a shadow of foundation for this nonsense. I am
heartily glad at the thought of seeing my cousin once more, and all
the gladder that he brings a wife with him. Will you read the letter?"

I read it twice, and then asked,--"Where does he mention his wife?"

"Why, there,--don't you see? 'I shall bring with me a young lady,
whom, though a stranger and a foreigner, I trust you will be pleased
to welcome.' Isn't that plain?"

The inference seemed sufficiently natural; but the slight uncertainty
was the basis of many entertaining dreams through the day. I resolved
to hold fast my faith in romance till the last moment. Towards
evening, when the parlors and guest-chambers had received the last
touches, when the silver had been polished, the sponge-cake and tarts
baked, and our own toilette made,--when, in short, nothing remained to
be done, my excitement and impatience rose to the highest pitch. I
ran repeatedly down the avenue, and finally mounted with a
pocket-telescope to the top of the house for a more extensive survey.

"See you aught, Sister Annie?" called my aunt from below.

"Nothing yet, good Fatima!--spin out thy prayers a little
longer. Stay! a cloud of dust, a