nd obedience
he should have shown to such a mother as his. He has taken very prompt
advantage of his arrival at his majority."

"Yet perhaps with good reason, papa," she returned, still beseechingly,
her eyes filling with tears.

"We will not condemn him unheard," he answered, his tones softening, "and
if he has made a mistake by reason of failing to seek the advice and
approval of those who so truly desire his happiness, it is he himself who
must be the greatest sufferer thereby."

"Yes," she returned with a sigh, "even a mother's love is powerless to
save her children from the consequences of their own follies and sins."

Edward, scarcely less desirous to make his explanation than his mother was
to hear it, hastened in search of her the moment he had seen Zoe
comfortably established upon a sofa in his dressing-room.

He found her in the library with his grandfather evidently awaiting his
coming. They were seated together upon a sofa.

"Dearest mother," Edward said, dropping upon his knees by her side and
clasping her in his arms, "how can I ever thank you enough for your
kindness this day to me and my darling! I fear I must seem to you and
grandpa an ungrateful wretch; but when you know all, you will not, I
trust, blame me quite so severely."

"We are not blaming you, my dear boy, we are waiting to hear first what
you have to say for yourself," Elsie answered, laying her hand fondly upon
his head. "Sit here by my side while you tell it," she added, making room
for him on the sofa.

He made his story brief, yet kept nothing back.

His hearers were deeply moved as he repeated what Mr. Love had told him of
the lonely and forlorn condition in which he must leave his petted only
child, and went on to describe the hasty marriage and the death scene, so
immediately following. Their kind hearts yearned over the little orphaned
bride, and they exonerated Edward from all blame for the part he acted in
the short, sad drama.

"Cherish her tenderly, my dear boy," his mother said, with tears in her
soft eyes, "you are all, everything to her, and must never let her want
for love or tenderest care."

"Mother," he answered in moved tones, "I shall try to be to my little wife
just the husband my father was to you."

"That is all any one could ask, my son," she returned, the tears coursing
down her cheeks.

"Do not expect too much of her, Edward," Mr. Dinsmore said. "She is a
mere child, a petted and spoiled one, I presu