consent.

"I could not consent on any account, Louise," said her mother with a
view to excuse this apparant departure from her principles, "if I had
not sometime ago had some conversation with the doctor on the subject.
I have great confidence in his judgment, and, I am sure he would not
desire it, if it were not a proper place for you. However, I have my
misgivings, for I never was allowed to go to such a place when I was
young," and she sighed, "but as the Doctor says, there is no other
amusement for the young in this new country," and she sighed again.
"Is Miss DeWolf going, Louise?"

"Yes, mother, Ned says he had hard work to persuade her to go. She
don't like to leave her father. What a pity he is such a sot. I
believe I should detest such a father. I don't see how she can be so
good to him."

"She is a dutiful daughter, Louise, and a noble girl, and I hope
nothing will ever happen to prevent her becoming Edward's wife."

"What can prevent it mother? I'm sure Ned is handsome, and talented
and rich enough for anybody."

"I don't know what could prevent it, Louise, but I shall be glad when
they are really married. I think a wife of the right stamp would have
a great influence on Edward."

"Why, mother, I'm sure Ned's principles are good, and he is steady
enough for a young man; I don't see what particular advantage a wife
would be to him."

Mrs. Sherman only sighed.

Louise looked a little disconcerted. "Why, mother," said she, "you act
as if you thought something terrible was going to happen to Ned and
me, and our only escape was matrimony."

"Louise," said Mrs. Sherman after a pause, "could not Miss DeWolf be
prevailed upon to spend the day of the party with us; she would only
be a few hours longer away from her father."

"Why yes, I think so," said Louise thoughtfully. "Ned could go for
her in the morning. O yes," she concluded decidedly, "Ned can manage
that I know."

Little Wolf spent the day above mentioned in Mrs. Sherman's family.
She was happy; happier than she had been since her return home. The
memory of the dreadful night which she passed at Squire Tinknor's had
ever since haunted her. It was only when in Edward's presence that she
forgot it, and it would even sometimes cloud a moment of such
companionship, as comes only to those whose very life is bound up in
another's. She often said to herself, it was his first mistake, it
would never be repeated; he would not dare to indulge again, now