certainly, for a young gentleman to reach, who when he
arrived at this house, but a few weeks before, seemed to be enjoying a
liberal share of hope and happiness. The question arose, Does she care
for me? Does she regard me with any special interest beyond the
kindness and courtesy she accords to all her father's guests? On this
point, he could not satisfy himself. He was torn by a conflict of
doubt, hope, and fear. He thought her not averse to him. She
conversed, sang, and rode with him as if it were agreeable to her.
Indeed she seemed to enjoy his society. But she was equally pleased to
converse and ride with Mr. Somers and good Mr. Norton. He was unable
to determine the sentiments she really cherished and remained tossed
to and fro in painful suspense and agitation.

A couple of hours passed and found him in the same state. Mr. Somers
came and tapped upon his door. Unwilling to awaken a suspicion of any
unusual discomposure, John opened it and let him in.

"Hope I don't intrude", said Mr. Somers, "but I want you to look at
the horse Mummychog has brought for me".

"Ah! yes", said John, and seizing his hat, he accompanied his friend
to the stables.

Their observations over, they returned to the house.

"You have had a fit of solitude, quite unusual, my boy", said Mr.
Somers, planting his hand on John's shoulder.

"Yes, quite. For a novelty, I have been collecting my thoughts". John
meant to speak in a gay, indifferent tone, and thought he had done so,
but this was a mistake.

Besides he had in fact a decidedly conscious look.

"If you have any momentous affair on hand, I advise you to wait, until
you reach _home_ before you decide upon it, my boy", said Mr. Somers,
with a light laugh, but a strong emphasis upon the word, home.

And he passed up-stairs, leaving John, standing bewildered in the
hall-door.

"Ah! Ned has discovered it all", said he to himself. But he was too
much occupied with other thoughts to be annoyed by it now.

Mr. Somers's last remark had turned the course of his meditations
somewhat. He began to question what opinion his parents might have in
regard to the sentiments he entertained towards Adele, and the plan
he had formed of endeavoring to secure her love. He knew, they
considered him as yet hardly out of boyhood. He had indeed, until
within a few weeks, looked upon himself in that light.

Not yet freed from college halls,--would they not think him foolish
and precipitate? Would t