you."

John, who overheard this remark, bit his lip with vexation, and then
burst into a laugh as he fancied the elegant Mrs. Livingstone's
dismay at hearing herself called '_Tilda_. Had John chosen, he could
have given his mother a few useful hints with regard to her treatment
of his wife, but such an idea never entered his brain. He was a man
of few words, and generally allowed himself to be controlled by
circumstances, thinking that the easiest way of getting through the
world. He was very proud, and keenly felt how mortifying it would be
to present his mother to his fashionable acquaintances; but that was
in the future--many miles away--he wouldn't trouble himself about it
now; so he passed his time mostly in rambling through the woods and
over the hills, while his mother, good soul, busied herself with the
preparations for her journey, inviting each and every one of her
neighbors to "be sure and visit her if they ever came that way," and
urging some of them to come on purpose and "spend the winter."

Among those who promised compliance with this last request, was Miss
Nancy Scovandyke, whom we have once before mentioned, and who, as the
reader will have inferred, was the first love of John Livingstone.
On the night of his arrival, she had been sent in quest of the
physician, and when on her return she learned from 'Lena that he had
come, she kept out of sight, thinking she would wait awhile before
she met him. "Not that she cared the snap of her finger for him,"
the said, "only it was natural that she should hate to see him."

But when the time did come, she met it bravely, shaking his hand and
speaking to him as if nothing had ever happened, and while he was
wondering how he ever could have fancied _her_, she, too, was