"Here they both come," cried Maud, glad to find the discourse taking so
complete a change; "and there is mamma, followed by Pliny, to tell
Beulah to take her station at the coffee, while I go to the chocolate,
leaving the tea to the only hand that can make it so that my father
will drink it."

The parties mentioned entered the room, in the order named; the usual
salutations followed, and all took their seats at table. Captain
Willoughby was silent and thoughtful at first, leaving his son to
rattle on, in a way that betokened care, in his view of the matter,
quite as much as it betokened light-heartedness in those of his mother
and sisters. The chaplain was rather more communicative than his
friend; but he, too, seemed restless, and desirous of arriving at some
point that was not likely to come uppermost, in such a family party. At
length, the impulses of Mr. Woods got the better of his discretion,
even, and he could conceal his thoughts no longer.

"Captain Willoughby," he said, in a sort of apologetic, and yet simple
and natural manner, "I have done little since we parted, seven hours
since, but think of the matter under discussion."

"If you have, my dear Woods, there has been a strong sympathy between
us; I have scarcely slept. I may say I have thought of nothing else,
myself, and am glad you have broached the subject, again."

"I was about to say, my worthy sir, that reflection, and my pillow, and
your sound and admirable arguments, have produced an entire change in
my sentiments. I think, now, altogether with you."