lmost
hopeless love.

And then he waited, trembling, for the rejection and rebuke that his
modesty made him more than half expect.

But no such rebuff came from Emma Cavendish.

She paused in her walk, raised her beautiful eyes to his face and placed
both her hands in his.

And in this manner she silently accepted him.

How fervently he thanked and blessed her!

Emma Cavendish had always been a dutiful daughter to the doting old lady
in the "throne room;" so that night, before she slept, she went in and
told her grandmother of her engagement to Alden Lytton.

Now, by all the rules of wrong, Madam Cavendish should have resolutely
set her face against the betrothal of her wealthy granddaughter to a
young lawyer with no fortune of his own and with his way yet to make in
the world.

And if the old lady had been somewhat younger she would probably have
done this very thing.

But as it was, she was "old and childish;" which means that she was more
heavenly-minded and nearer heaven than she ever had been since the days
of her own infancy and innocence.

So, instead of fixing a pair of terrible spectacled eyes upon the young
girl and reading her a severe lecture upon "the eternal fitness of
things," as illustrated in wealth mating with wealth and rank with rank,
she looked lovingly upon her granddaughter, held out her venerable hand,
and drew her up to her bosom, kissed her tenderly, and said:

"Heaven bless you, my own darling! This has come rather suddenly upon
me; but since, in the course of nature, you must some time marry, I do
not know a young gentleman in this world to whom I would as soon see you
married as to Mr. Alden Lytton. But, my child, I do not think you ought
to be married very soon," she added.

"No, dear grandma, I know that," said Emma, kneeling down by her side
and tenderly caressing and kissing her withered hands. "No, dear
grandma, I will never leave you--never for any one--not even for him!"

"My darling child, you mistake my meaning. It is not for the selfish
purpose of keeping you here near me that I advise you to defer your
marriage for a time. It is because I think it is decorous that some
months should elapse between the betrothal of a young pair and their
wedding. Though, of course, there are some cases in which a short
engagement and a speedy marriage become expedient or even necessary. As,
for instance, my child, if I felt myself near death now I should
certainly wish to hasten yo