ith honest
confidence, the other shy and wistful--dreading the first glance, as if
it had been a dagger. But an exclamation of astonishment broke from them
both, at the sudden illumination of those eyes--at the smile that parted
her lips, like sunshine forcing a red rose bud into sudden flower. Yes,
the countenance of Mabel Harrington brightened into beauty then, and it
was one which the heart leaped toward with gushes of tenderness.

The eyes of Ralph Harrington danced and sparkled in their joy, and
Lina's brightened up, till the very tears shone like diamonds in them.

"Oh, mother, my blessed, blessed mother, how happy you have made us--how
good you are!"

And yet she had not spoken a word. That eloquent face had done it all.
She sunk slowly to her seat, sighing, but, oh! how pleasantly. Ralph
seized her hand, which he covered with grateful kisses. Lina fell upon
her knees, and burying her face in Mabel's lap, mingled soft murmurs
with a world of broken sighs, as she had done many a time when a little
petted child. Her gentle heart was brimful of thanksgiving, which she
could utter in no other way.

"My children you have made me so happy!" exclaimed Mabel, folding them
both in her arms. "I never expected to be happy again, and lo! God heaps
all this blessedness at my feet."

"I thought you were offended with me," said Lina, lifting her bright
face to meet the pleasant glance bent upon her.

"Offended, darling! I misunderstood you. Why, lady-bird, did you call my
son Ralph, Mr. Harrington?"

Lina blushed scarlet, and Ralph laughed, little dreaming what cruel
struggles had followed this trifling change of names. Indeed, Ralph was
rather proud of the new dignity with which Lina's bashful love had
invested him; and Lina was greatly puzzled to know what harm there was
in calling so fine a young fellow Mr. Harrington, after all.

While they were hovering around Mabel's chair, overwhelming her with the
abundance of their own happiness, there was a commotion among the
passion-flowers at the window, and the vine was once so violently
agitated, that some of its blossoms dropped away and fell through the
sash-door; but no one of that happy trio heeded it, and Agnes Barker
escaped once more from the balcony unseen.

CHAPTER XX.

THE BOUQUET OF ROSES.

And now Mabel was left alone, with the cup of bitter trial removed from
her lips, and a flood of thankfulness gushing up from her heart. How she
loved those tw