figure, in whose mournful dark eyes was something so pathetic that it
suggested the old-time prophecy that such "die young." Clarissa
Verplanck in that resembled none of her family, and the one reason for
her father's and aunt's anxiety about her was that she was thought the
image of a sister of her mother who fulfilled the prophecy. Be that as
it may, Clarissa was anything but a mournful person in general; her
spirits were somewhat prone to outrun her physical strength, and
therefore her sad little appeal for one of her sisters to cheer her had
come in the light of a demand to the Litchfield home, and alarmed them
more than anything else could have done.

"Kitty, Kitty," said Clarissa, holding out a welcoming hand to her
visitor, who seated herself on a cricket beside her, "why have you not
been in this four days? I am truly glad to see you, for ever since
Gulian and I dispatched our letters to my father I have been so cross
and impatient that I fear my good husband is beginning to tire of his
bargain, and lament a peevish wife."

"Heaven forgive you for the slander," retorted Kitty, laughing; "if ever
there was a husband who adored the ground you walk on, Gulian is"--

"Thank you," said a quiet voice, as a tall dark man entered from the
bedroom.

"Let me finish my sentence--Gulian is that benighted swain," burst in
Kitty.

"Again, my thanks," answered Gillian gravely. To none but Clarissa was
he ever seen to relax his serious manner; perhaps hers were the only
eyes who saw the tenderness behind the stern, reserved exterior. He