"PEGGY."

"I wonder how Peggy will get on at school?" said Margaret. "Very well, I
should think. Certainly no one can help liking her, dear girl; and she
will learn a great deal, I am sure."

"She'll never learn English history," said Mr. Montfort; "but after all,
there are other things, May Margaret, though you are loth to acknowledge
it."

"And now for Rita. I'll just run through it again, Uncle John, to
see--oh! oh, yes! The first part is all just that she wants to see me,
and so on,--her wild way. She has had the most wonderful summer,--'the
Pyrenees, Margaret! Never before have I seen great mountains, that scale
the heavens, you understand. The Titans are explained to me. I have
seen, and my soul has arisen to their height. I could dwell with thee,
Marguerite, on snow-peaks tinged with morning rose, peaks that touch the
stars, that veil themselves in clouds of evening;' perhaps I'll skip a
little here, Uncle John. Interlaken,--the Jungfrau,--oh, she _is_ having
a glorious time. Oh! oh, dear me, uncle!"

"Well, my dear? She has not fallen off the Jungfrau?"

"No, not that; but she--she is--or she thinks she is--going to be
married."

Mr. Montfort whistled. "To the Matterhorn, or to some promising young
avalanche? Pray enlighten me, my dear."

"Oh! don't laugh, Uncle John, I am afraid it may be serious. A young
Cuban, she says, a soldier, of course." Margaret ran her eyes down the
page, but found nothing sober enough to read aloud. "He seems to be a
very wonderful person," she said, timidly. "Handsome, and a miracle of
courage,--and a military genius; if war should come, Rita thinks he will
be commander-in-chief of the Cuban army. You don't think it will really
come to war, Uncle John?"

"I cannot tell, Margaret," said Mr. Montfort, gravely. "Things are
looking rather serious, but no one can see just what is coming yet. And
this seems to be a bona fide engagement? It isn't little Fernando, is
it?"

"No! oh, no! She says--she is sorry for Fernando, but he will always be
her brother. This one's name is--let me see. Jose Maria Salvador
Santillo de Santayana. What a magnificent name! He had followed her from
Cuba, and he has Uncle Richard's permission to pay his addresses to
Rita, and she says--she says he is the dream of her life, embodied in
the form of a Greek hero, with the soul of a poet, and the intellect of
a Shakespeare. So I suppose it is all right, uncle; only, she is very
young."

"Young