ast, which palpitated under the piece of old lace, like the breast of
a wounded bird. Then, as the girl stopped and caught her breath sharply
from sheer stress of feeling, the little lady looked up again and
straightened herself with a gesture of pride.

"Do not make the mistake, Sally," she said, "of thinking that a humble
birth means necessarily greater honesty than a high one. Generations of
refinement are the best material for character-building, and you might
as easily find the qualities you esteem in a gentleman of your own
social position."

"I might, Aunt Matoaca; but, as a matter of fact, have I? Until you have
seen a man fight can you know him? Is family tradition, after all, as
good a school as the hard world? A life like Ben's does not always make
a man good, I know, but it has made him so. If this were not true--if
any one could prove to me that he had been false or cruel to any living
creature--man, woman, or animal--I'd give him up to-day and not break my
heart--"

It was true, I knew it as she spoke, and I could have knelt to her.

"You are blind, Sally, blind and rash as your mother before you,"
returned Miss Mitty.

"No, Aunt Mitty, it is you who are blind--who see by the old values that
the world has long since outgrown--who think you can assign a place to a
man and say to him, 'You belong there and cannot come out of it.' But,
oh, Aunt Matoaca, surely you, who have sacrificed so much for what you
believe to be right,--who have placed principle before any claims of
blood, surely you will uphold me--"

"My child, my child," replied the poor lady, with a sob, "I placed
principle first, but never emotion--never emotion."

"Poor Sarah was the only one of us who gave up everything for the sake
of an emotion," added Miss Mitty, "and what did it bring her except
misery?"

Our cause was lost--we saw it at the same instant--and again Sally gave
me her hand and stood side by side with me in the firelight.

"I am sorry, dear aunts," she said gently, and turning to me, she added
slowly and clearly, "I will marry you a year from to-day, if you will
wait, Ben."

"I will wait for you, whether you marry me or not, forever," I answered;
and bowing silently, I turned and left the room, while Sally went down
again on her knees.

Once outside, I drew a long breath of air, sharp with the scent of the
sycamore, and stood gazing up at the clear sunset beyond the silvery
boughs. It was good to be out of those m