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"Richard Thorndyke Smith! My dear boy," she cried, while the nieces gasped at each other with gestures and looks all the way between Terpsichore and Melpomene, and then the four cried in chorus, "We know your mother!"

My heart beat wildly and I wanted to ask if it was on my account; but I was too pusillanimous a coward, and when I feebly tried to look into her eyes she would not let me, which convinced me that she lacked candor. A dance ended. Gold-laced fellows came and sat on the veranda rail wiping wrists and brows with over-tasked handkerchiefs, and explaining the small mishaps of the floor. Two promenaders mentioned the hour. I gasped my amazement and extended my hand. "Good-bye."

Lit with foolish hope to hear thy fondling sighs, Like yon twilight dove's, breathe, Return, return!

Dolt that I was, I would have drawn her close, but she put me off with an outstretched arm and forbidden smile. "No!--No! this is a matter of life and death."

"Why, who and what should I be?"

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