nged in discussion.
We merely reaffirmed our ultimatum, and gave one week for the two men to
decide in what manner to close their trust.

CHAPTER XXVII.

The decision was as I expected it to be; and the old property came back
into the family. There were few hearts in S----, that did not beat with
pleasure, when it was known that Mr. Wallingford and his lovely wife
were to pass from Ivy Cottage to the stately Allen House.

I think the strife between Mr. Dewey and the old executors was severe,
and that he yielded only when he saw that they were immovable. An
open rupture with Squire Floyd was a consequence of his persistent
determination to have the Allen property transferred; and after the
settlement of this business, they held no personal communication with
each other.

The change in Mr. Dewey's appearance, after it became a settled thing
that he must remove from the splendid mansion he had occupied for years,
was remarkable. He lost the impressive swagger that always said, "I am
the first man in S----;" and presented the appearance of one who
had suffered some great misfortune, without growing better under the
discipline. He did not meet you with the free, open, better-than-you
look that previously characterized him, but with a half sidelong falling
of the eyes, in which there was, to me, something very sinister.

As far as our observation went, Mr. Wallingford put on no new phase of
character. There was about him the same quiet, thoughtful dignity of
manner which had always commanded involuntary respect. He showed no
unseemly haste in dispossessing Mr. Dewey of his elegant home. Two
months after the title deeds had passed, I called in at Ivy Cottage, now
one of the sweetest, little places in S----, for Constance, who had
been passing the evening there. Not in any home, through all the region
round, into which it was my privilege to enter, was there radiant, like
a warm, enticing atmosphere that swelled your lungs with a new vitality,
and gave all your pulses a freer beat, such pure love--maternal and
conjugal--as pervaded this sanctuary of the heart. I say maternal,
as well as conjugal, for two dear babes had brought into this home
attendant angels from the higher heaven.

A soft astral lamp threw its mellow rays about the room. Mr. Wallingford
had a book open in his hand, from which he had been reading aloud to his
wife and Constance. He closed the volume as I entered, and rising, took
my hand, saying,