e his wife. The latter playfully tapped his cheek with her
bouquet, but the broker took no notice of the coquettish action, and
gloomily contemplating his gaiters, as if afraid to trust his eyes
with the siren glances of his partner, commenced:--

"Mrs. B., I want to have some serious talk with you."

"You never have any other kind of small talk," retorted the lady. "You
have a rare gift at sermonizing."

Mr. Brandon passed over the sneer, and continued:--

"You alluded just now to Julia; it is of her I wish to speak. Let me
remind you of her future prospects, and ask you whether it be not time
to change your system of educating her, and prepare her for a change
of life. You will remember then, that, two years ago, with the
consent of all parties, she was engaged to Arthur Merton, a very
promising young dry goods merchant of Boston."

"Only a retail merchant," said Mrs. Brandon.

"A promising young merchant, the son of my old friend Jasper Merton.
It was agreed between us that I should bestow ten thousand dollars on
my daughter, and Merton an equal sum upon his son. In case of the
failure of either party to fulfil the engagement, the father of the
party was to forfeit to the aggrieved person the sum of ten thousand
dollars. This very week, I expect my old friend and his son to ratify
the contract. You know with what difficulty, owing to the enormous
expenses of our mode of life, I have laid aside the stipulated sum;
for in your hands, the hands of the mother of my child, I have lodged
this sacred deposit."

"Very true," said the lady, "and it is now in my secretary, under lock
and key. But what an odious arrangement! How the contract and the
forfeit smell of the shop!"

"Don't despise the smell of the shop, Maria," said the broker, smiling
gravely, "it is the smell of the shop that perfumes the boudoir."

"And then Arthur Merton is such a shocking person," continued the
lady; "really, no manners."

"To my mind, Maria," said the broker, "his manners, plain, open, and
frank, are infinitely superior to those of the French butterfly who is
always fluttering at your elbow."

"And if he is always fluttering at my elbow," retorted the lady, "it
is because you are always away."

"That is because I always have business," said the broker. "If we
lived in less style, I should have more leisure. Ah! Maria! Maria! I
fear that we are driving on too recklessly; the day of reckoning will
come--we seem to be sailing prosp