ame upon me
like a thunderbolt."

"What? who?"

"Travilla; after years of patient waiting he has won her at last--our
darling--and--and I've given her to him."

Both ladies stood dumb with astonishment, while young Horace, who had come
running up in time to catch the last words, cried out with vehemence,
"Papa! what! give our Elsie away? how could you? how can we ever do
without her? But she shan't go, for she belongs to me too, and I'll
_never_ give consent!"

Mr. Dinsmore and the ladies smiled faintly.

"They seemed to think mine quite sufficient, Horace," replied his father,
"and I'm afraid will hardly consider it necessary to ask yours."

"But, papa, we can't spare her--you know we can't--and why should you go
and give her away to Mr. Travilla or anybody?"

"My son, had I refused, it would have caused her great unhappiness."

"Then she ought to be ashamed to go and love Mr. Travilla better than you
and all of us."

"I was never more astonished in my life!" cried Adelaide.

"Nor I," said Rose. "And he's a great deal too old for her."

"That is an objection," replied her husband, "but if not insuperable to
her, need not be to us."

"Think of your intimate friend addressing you as father!" laughed
Adelaide; "it's really too ridiculous."

"That need not be--is not an inevitable consequence of the match," smiled
Mr. Dinsmore, softly caressing the little one clinging about his neck.

Still conversing on the same subject, the minds of all being full of it to
the exclusion of every other, they moved on as if by common consent
towards the house.

"Do you think it can be possible that she is really and truly in love with
him?" queried Rose; "a man so much older than herself, and so intimate in
the family since her early childhood."

"Judge for yourself, my dear," said Mr. Dinsmore, as a turn in the path
brought them within a few yards of the lovers, who were moving slowly in
their direction so that the two parties must meet in another moment.

One glance at the beaming faces, the rich color coming and going in
Elsie's cheek, the soft, glad light in her sweet brown eyes, was a
sufficient reply to Rose's question. She looked at her husband with a
satisfied smile, which he returned.

But little Horace, leaving his father's side, rushed up to Elsie, and
catching her hand in his, cried, "I'll never give my consent! and you
belong to me. Mr. Travilla, you can't have her."

To the child's surprise Elsie only