ment. But it didn't prove fatal. We got through it somehow. We
dined with Aunt Jane, and wined with Uncle Joseph, and perhaps had two
fingers given to us by old Cousin Horatio, whose enormous fortune was of
the greatest importance to everybody. And perhaps fragments of the other
family's estimate of us subsequently reached our own ears. But if a
chosen lover cannot stand being treated as a specimen by the other
family, he's a very weak vessel, and not worth any good girl's love.
That's all I can say for him.

Now the Virginian was scarcely what even his enemy would term a weak
vessel; and Molly's jealousy of the impression which he might make upon
Bennington was vastly superfluous. She should have known that he would
indeed care to make a good impression; but that such anxiety on his part
would be wholly for her sake, that in the eyes of her friends she might
stand justified in taking him for her wedded husband. So far as he was
concerned apart from her, Aunt Jane and Uncle Joseph might say anything
they pleased, or think anything they pleased. His character was open for
investigation. Judge Henry would vouch for him.

This is what he would have said to his sweetheart had she but revealed
to him her perturbations. But she did not reveal them; and they were not
of the order that he with his nature was likely to divine. I do not
know what good would have come from her speaking out to him, unless that
perfect understanding between lovers which indeed is a good thing. But
I do not believe that he could have reassured her; and I am certain that
she could not have prevented his writing to her mother.

"Well, then," she sighed at last, "if you think so, I will tell her."

That sigh of hers, be it well understood, was not only because of those
far-off voices which the world would in consequence of her news be
lifting presently. It came also from bidding farewell to the fairy-tale
which she must leave now; that land in which she and he had been living
close together alone, unhindered, unmindful of all things.

"Yes, you will tell her," said her lover. "And I must tell her too."

"Both of us?" questioned the girl.

What would he say to her mother? How would her mother like such a letter
as he would write to her? Suppose he should misspell a word? Would not
sentences from him at this time--written sentences--be a further bar to
his welcome acceptance at Bennington?

"Why don't you send messages by me?" she asked him.

He