not genuine. Just look! it is a palpable cheat, an imitation made
with a pen. The color did not spread, you see, as ink mixed with oil
does. This letter never left this village. I never saw it
before,--could not have seen it. Do you doubt me now, dear Mildred?"

Even if the evidence had been less convincing, the earnest, heartfelt
tone, the pleading look and gesture, would have satisfied a much more
exacting woman. She sprang towards her lover, and flung her arms about
his neck. The pent-up feeling of days and weeks rushed over her like a
flood, and the presence of Mrs. Alford was forgotten.

Mrs. Alford, it would seem, suddenly thought of something; for,
gathering herself up, she walked off as fast as the laws of
gravitation allowed, exclaiming,--"There! I never did see! Sech hens!
Allus a-flyin' into the kitchen. I wonder now who left that are door
open."

The frightened cackle of the hens, the rattling of pots and pans by
the assiduous housewife in the kitchen, were unheeded by the lovers,
"emparadised in one another's arms." The conversation took too wide a
range and embraced too many trivial details to be set down here. Only
this I may say: they both believed, (as every enamored couple
believes,) that, though other people might cherish the properest
affection for each other, yet no man or woman ever did or could
experience such intense and all-pervading emotion as now throbbed in
their breasts,--in fact, that they had been created to exemplify the
passion, which, before, poets had only imagined. Simple children! they
had only found out what hearts are made for!

CHAPTER XV.

The last picture was a pleasant relief in a rather sombre story,
therefore we prefer to commence a stormier scene in a new chapter.
Mark and Mildred were sitting cozily by the ample fireplace,--not at
opposite corners, you may believe,--when there was a warning _ahem!_
at the door, and the sound of feet "a-raspin' on the scraper." Mr.
Alford entered and said, "Milly, your step-mother's team is comin' up
the road." In a moment there was a bustle in the house, but before any
preparation could be made the carriage was at the gate, and Mrs.
Kinloch, accompanied by Squire Clamp, knocked at the door.

"Milly, you go into the kitchen with Mrs. Alford," said the farmer.
"I'll attend to matters for them."

"No, Mr. Alford," she answered; "you are very good, but I think I'll
stay and see them. Shan't I, Mark?"

Mrs. Kinloch and the lawyer ent