w which stood open to the piazza. He stood patting
his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief; he was very much flushed; his
face wore a singular expression.

"Yes, sir, you had better consent," Mr. Brand repeated, coming forward.
"I know what Miss Gertrude means."

"My dear friend!" murmured Felix, laying his hand caressingly on the
young minister's arm.

Mr. Brand looked at him; then at Mr. Wentworth; lastly at Gertrude. He
did not look at Charlotte. But Charlotte's earnest eyes were fastened
to his own countenance; they were asking an immense question of it.
The answer to this question could not come all at once; but some of the
elements of it were there. It was one of the elements of it that Mr.
Brand was very red, that he held his head very high, that he had a
bright, excited eye and an air of embarrassed boldness--the air of a
man who has taken a resolve, in the execution of which he apprehends
the failure, not of his moral, but of his personal, resources. Charlotte
thought he looked very grand; and it is incontestable that Mr. Brand
felt very grand. This, in fact, was the grandest moment of his life;
and it was natural that such a moment should contain opportunities of
awkwardness for a large, stout, modest young man.

"Come in, sir," said Mr. Wentworth, with an angular wave of his hand.
"It is very proper that you should be present."

"I know what you are talking about," Mr. Brand rejoined. "I heard what
your nephew said."

"And he heard what you said!" exclaimed Felix, patting him again on the
arm.

"I am not sure that I understood," said Mr. Wentworth, who had
angularity in his voice as well as in his gestures.

Gertrude had been looking hard at her former suitor. She had been
puzzled, like her sister; but her imagination moved more quickly than
Charlotte's. "Mr. Brand asked you to let Felix take me away," she said
to her father.

The young minister gave her a strange look. "It is not because I don't
want to see you any more," he declared, in a tone intended as it were
for publicity.

"I should n't think you would want to see me any more," Gertrude
answered, gently.

Mr. Wentworth stood staring. "Is n't this rather a change, sir?" he
inquired.

"Yes, sir." And Mr. Brand looked anywhere; only still not at Charlotte.
"Yes, sir," he repeated. And he held his handkerchief a few moments to
his lips.

"Where are our moral grounds?" demanded Mr. Wentworth, who had always
thought Mr. Brand would be j