ese. But it is possible to do a great deal of good
in the world without fame, and Batton Habersham did it; his little
mission chapel was on one of the sea islands. Always thereafter he
remembered the early morning marriage of that beautiful girl in the dim,
empty old Charleston church as the most romantic episode of his life.
Fervently he hoped that she would be happy; for even so good a man is
more earnest (unconsciously) in his hopes for the happiness of a bride
with eyes and hair like Garda's than he is for that of one with tints
less striking. Though the relation, all the same, between the amount of
coloring matter in the visual orbs or capillary glands, and the degree
of sweetness and womanly goodness in the heart beneath, has never yet
been satisfactorily determined.

An hour later the northward-bound train was carrying two supremely happy
persons across the Carolinas towards New York--the Narrows--Italy.

"Well, we have all been young once, Sally," the little old rice planter
had said to his weeping niece, as the carriage drove away from the
hospitable old mansion of the Lowndes'. Garda had almost forgotten that
they were there, Sally and himself, as they had stood for a moment at
the carriage door; but she had looked so lovely in her absorbed felicity
that he forgave her on the spot, though of course he wondered over her
choice, and "couldn't imagine" what she could see in that "ordinary
young fellow." He went back to his plantation. But he was restless all
the evening. At last, about midnight, he got out an old miniature and
some letters; and any one who could have looked into the silent room
later in the night would have seen the little old man still in his
arm-chair, his face hidden in his hand, the faded pages beside him.

"It is perhaps as well," said Margaret Harold. She was trying to
administer some comfort to Dr. Kirby, when, two days later, he sat, a
flaccid parcel of clothes, on the edge of a chair in her parlor, staring
at the floor.

Mrs. Rutherford was triumphant. "A runaway match! And _that_ is the girl
you would have married, Evert. What an escape!"

"_She_ has escaped," Winthrop answered, smiling.

"What do you mean? Escaped?--escaped from what?"

"From all of us here."

"Not from me," answered Aunt Katrina, with dignity. "_I_ never tried to
keep her, _I_ always saw through her perfectly from the very first. Do
you mean to say that you understand that girl even now?" she added, with
some