I saw we were alone.

"Hark ye, my dear Purkiss!" continued my
host. " I'm going to speak to you like a bluff
old fellow as I am. Fathers have sharpish eyes.
I observed your manner to-day, and I think I
can make a shrewd guess what has given us the
pleasure of your company. You know my plain
way, and will pardon me if I anticipate what
should certainly have been allowed to come from
you. You are interested in my little Soph?"

"My dear sir," I answered, promptly, " I am
greatly indebted to you for your correct estimate
of my feelings. I am, indeed—-to adopt your
own expression—-interested in Miss Sophia, and,
with permission of those to whom she is so
deservedly dear, I——"

"Dick, my boy, say not another word"—-my
kind (future) parent-in-law grasped my hand—-
"win her. Take her. She is yours. I give
my girls each their eight thousand—-interest
for my life—-principal after. So much for that.
You will inform your uncle to-morrow?"

"Certainly, my dear sir. But—-ahem!—-the
—-young lady——"

"Psha! I forgot that," said my impulsive
host. " Well, I think you may be pretty sure.
Still, as you say, it might be as well—-just excuse
me a moment." And he bustled out of the
room.

I had hardly collected my ideas when he was
back again.

"All right. Some more wine? No? Well,
then, just go and see how you like our new
orchids in the conservatory. There's the door."

I went in. It was growing dusk, but I could
detect a fairy form moving among the shrubs.
I followed it, and gently took the little pendent
hand. It was not withdrawn. What I said, I
certainly shall not write. Let everybody propose
for himself. The murmurs that responded
to mine were eminently satisfactory. My happiness
was only equalled by my astonishment at
the whole matter. Both were profound.

A little difficulty now arose. It behoved me
to plead for an early day for our union. I had
been so slightly acquainted with the family, that
I had positively never exchanged a dozen words
with this beloved of my soul. It might be
almost said, I had not known her at all till
within these three hours. How, then, can I
fitly introduce the subject of my intense
impatience? Shall I leave it to my plain-spoken
papa-in-law? No. Here goes.

"And now, dearest Sophy (ah, that sweet
name)!"

"Sweet enough, but it's not mine," retorted
my affianced lady.

"N-not—-yours!" I stammered, a strange
misgiving stealing over me.

"Certainly not," was the reply; and, as she
turned to the light, I beheld the face of Miss
Crowdie.

"I—-I—-eh—-why, what is this?" said I.

The young lady burst into tears, and hid her
face in her hands.

"Mamma t-told me—-you w-w-wished to speak
to me," she sobbed.

I hate to see a woman weep. And she wept
so prettily!

"My dear Miss Crowdie——"

"C-call me Su-hu-san."

"Well, Susan dear, let me wipe off that
falling——"  I was gliding into the old song, and
also, strange as it may seem, into a degree of
interest for the fair weeper hardly compatible
with my previous engagements.

I scarcely know how it chanced that one of
her pretty brown silken curls had got entangled
on my button. While engaged in disentangling
it, and murmuring words of comfort more or less
coherent, Mr. Crowdie's broad face appeared at
the window. To my surprise, he merely laughed
merrily—-adding:

"Dick, I want you. Come here a moment."

Miss Crowdie vanished, and I, leaping out at
the window, joined my host.

"Dick," he said, taking my arm, " here has
been a little mistake. My wife, I must tell
you, has one persistent fancy. It is her
fixed idea that if the eldest of a family of
girls does not marry first, the matches of the
rest will be unlucky. With a decision, for which
I certainly should not have given her credit,
she sent Susan in Sophy's place; and—-eh—-do
you mind much? She's good as gold—-my
Susy. Come, what d'ye say?"

"But, my dear friend, Miss Sophia——"

"Oh! I'll make that all right. Thanks, my
dear boy, you have made us very happy." And
he hurried, off.

"Mr. Purkiss, Mr. Purkiss, we are going for
a moonlight row on the lake," cried a silver
voice from an upper casement, and presently
down came a bevy of damsels, in the centre of
whom I recognised my present betrothed, Miss
Crowdie, walking with the timid assurance of
a bride, and looking, in the moonlight, I must
confess, fair and graceful as Diana's self. It
seemed to be an understood thing that I was to
give her my arm; and thus it came to pass that,
in the walk down to the lake, we were left
together, an arrangement to which (I noticed
with some relief) Miss Sophia's exertions greatly
contributed.

They were really a charming family, on the
best terms with themselves, each other, and all
around them. We had a very merry row, and
were in the midst of an Italian barcarole, when
Mr. Crowdie's jovial voice hailed us from the
landing-place.

"Let's put in here," said one of the party,
pointing to a bank, on which we could see
glow-worms sparkling.

As we neared the spot, several of the party
rose at once. The boat gave a sudden lurch—-
there was a shriek—-a plunge—-a gurgle—-Miss
Laura Jane had toppled overboard, and gone
down into the deepest part of the lake! I tore
off my coat, and plunged after, catching her, I
imagine, as she rose to the surface, and bore her
safely to the bank. The poor child, though
much frightened, did not seem materially
injured by the shock. She was put carefully to
bed, and all seemed going well, when, somewhat