d the drawing-room.

Drawn by an attraction there is no explaining, she left her room, and
took up her position in a small boudoir which adjoined the drawing-room.
Here she sat, persuading herself she was at her work; but, in reality,
in a state of suspense not very inferior to some prisoner while a jury
is deliberating on his fate.

The conversation, at first conducted in an ordinary tone, had gradually
subsided, till it dropped into the low, undistinguishable manner we
have mentioned.

[Illustration: 114]

Aunt Fanny's inventive mind had suggested every step of the interview.
She kept muttering to herself: "He is explaining himself--she is
incredulous--and he tries to reassure her--she believes that his heart
was given to another--he vows and swears it was always hers--she cannot
credit the happiness--she is too unworthy."

It was just as our aunt had got thus far in her running commentary that
both voices ceased, and a stillness, unbroken by a murmur, succeeded.
"What could it mean?" was the sudden question that flashed across her
mind; and Napoleon's own dread anxiety, as he gazed on the wood, and
hesitated whether the dark masses emerging from the shade were his
own legions or the Prussians, was not much more intense than hers. At
last--we are sorry to record it--but, alas! Aunt Fanny was only mortal,
and an old maid to boot--she approached the door and peeped through the
keyhole. The sight which met her eyes needed no second glance; she saw
both heads bent down together, the dark waving hair of Cashel close
to the nut-brown silky braids of Olivia. Neither spoke. "It was then
concluded."

This was the moment in which mutual avowals, meeting like two rivers,
form one broad and sweeping flood; it was the moment, too, in which,
according to her theory; a friend was all essential. According to her
phrase, the "nail should be clinched."

Now, Aunt Fanny had been cruelly handled by the family for all the
blunders she had committed. Her skill had been impugned; her shrewdness
sneered at; her prognostications derided. Here was an opportunity to
refute all at once; and, in the language of the conqueror, "to cover
herself with glory."

Gently opening the door she entered the room, and stealing tiptoe over,
till she stood behind their chairs, she placed, with all the solemnity
of an archbishop, a hand on either head, and, in a voice of touching
fervor, said,--

"Bless ye both, my darlings; may ye be as happy as--"