He was prevented from finishing his speech by a low cry from Mary,
who, pressing his hands in hers, looked beseechingly in his face, and
said, "Oh, don't, George!--don't talk so."

He had not teased her about her looks for a long time, and now just as
he was leaving her, 'twas more than she could bear. Instantly
regretting his thoughtless words, George took her in his arms, and
wiping away her tears, said, "Forgive me, Mary. I don't know what made
me say so, for I do love you dearly, and always will. You have been
kind to me, and I shall remember it, and some time, perhaps, repay
it." Then putting her down, and bidding adieu to Mr. and Mrs. Howard,
Frank, and Ella, he sprang into his uncle's carriage, and was rapidly
driven away.

Mary looked after him as long as the heads of the white horses were in
sight, and then taking Frank's hand, followed her parents to the
hotel, where for a few days they had determined to stop while Mrs.
Howard made inquiries for her sister.

Meantime, from the richly curtained windows of a large handsome
building a little girl looked out, impatiently waiting her father's
return, wondering why he was gone so long and if she should like her
cousin George, or whether he was a bearish looking fellow, with warty
hands, who would tease her pet kitten and ink the faces of her doll
babies. In the centre of the room the dinner table was standing, and
Ida Selden had twice changed the location of her cousin's plate, once
placing it at her side, and lastly putting it directly in front, so
she could have a fair view of his face.

"Why don't they come?" she had said for the twentieth time, when the