oom may not only be deepened upon your own face, but
it may reflect itself upon the countenance before you also. Better
imitate the amiable and wise bachelor, and impart nothing but that which
will bring a bright gleam with it.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Mrs. Kinalden was in a terrible flutter. Her lodger's "traps" had come,
and were well disposed in his silent room; she had every thing in order
to receive him. The light and the sun were admitted into the long-time
darkened space, and puss was curled up upon the rug as if she had never
known another resting-place. The dove-colored merino went up and down
the stairs, and the clean cap-border flew backward with every agitated
movement.

"It was very strange that he didn't come! Hadn't the boat been in since
ten o'clock in the morning? so the truckman told her, and here were the
hands at two in the afternoon! There was no accounting for it after all
that had passed between them!" However, it couldn't be helped, and as
the hour of three struck, and no Mr. Bond appeared, the despairing woman
betook herself to her green moreen rocking-chair, and, what else could
she do?--wept. Yes, wept! and while the red silk handkerchief hid her
disappointed face, a heavy step sounded in the hall, and a familiar
voice came through the half-open door of the little parlor. "Heigh-ho!
what's the matter here? I thought I'd escaped the terrors of the briny
deep; but bless my heart! here I am in the midst of it again!" and Mr.
Bond's plump hand was extended to greet his landlady, who quickly wiped
away the offending drops, and grew calm. "Couldn't come before, madam,"
said he, in reply to her question as to what had detained him so long.
"Had to go first and see how Nannie and Pat got on, you know!" That was
rather overwhelming--so inconsistent with "My dear Mrs. Kinalden."

The shocked widow looked indignant and muttered something about
"professions of regard," and "affectionate epistles," etc.; but it was
all lost upon the obtuse man who talked on, about what especially
concerned him, and then went gleefully up the stairs.

What wonder if his heart did beat quicker as his hand touched the knob
of his room-door! Isn't it like meeting a dear friend, after a long
absence, to cross the threshold of a cherished locality? The very
inanimate things seemed invested with a silent joy at his return, and
the face from the portrait beamed out a glad welcome. There are tears in
the bachelor's eyes as th