e flourish only for a season."

"If Delia were a child of mine," said my good Constance, in her earnest
way, "I would a thousand times rather trust her with Henry Wallingford
than with Ralph Dewey."

"Yes, and a thousand millions of times," responded Mrs. Dean. "He is
a man. You know just what he is, and where he is. But, as for this
splashing nephew of Judge Bigelow's--who knows what's below the surface?
Delia's father is all taken up with him, and thinks the match a splendid
one. Sister don't say much; but I can see that she has her misgivings. I
can talk to you freely, you know."

"I don't think," said I, "that Delia has grown more cheerful since her
engagement. Brides expectant ought to feel as happy as the day is long."

"More cheerful? Oh, dear, no! She isn't the same that she was at all;
but mopes about more than half of her time. It's just my opinion--spoken
between friends--that she cares, now, a great deal more for Henry than
she does for Ralph."

"Do they ever meet?" I inquired.

"Not very often."

"They have met?"

"Yes, several times."

"Have you seen them together?"

"Oh, yes."

"How does she act towards him?"

"Not always the same. Sometimes she is talkative, and sometimes
reserved--sometimes as gay as a lark, and sometimes sober enough; as
if there were such a weight on her spirits, that she could not smile
without an effort."

"Does the fact of his presence make any change in her?" I inquired.
"What I mean is, if she were lively in spirits before he came in, would
she grow serious--or if serious, grow excited?"

"Oh, yes, it always makes a change. I've known her, after being very
quiet, and hardly having any thing to say, though in the midst of young
company, grow all at once as merry as a cricket, and laugh and joke in
a wild sort of way. And again, when she has been in one of her old,
pleasant states of mind I have noticed that she all at once drew back
into herself; I could trace the cause to only this--the presence of
Henry Wallingford. But this doesn't often happen, for he rarely shows
himself in company."

"Is there anything noticeable about Henry when they meet?" I asked.

"Not to an ordinary observer," replied Mrs. Dean. "But I look with
sharper eyes than most people. Yes, there is something noticeable. He
always puts himself in her way, but with a kind of forced, resolute
manner, as if the act were a trial of strength, and involved a stern
heart-discipline. And this I thin