mind for Harold, and she contrived to throw them together frequently.

"Don't you admire Miss Durand?" she asked, after they had met several
times. "I think she is lovely; as good, too, as she is beautiful; and
would make you a charming wife."

He flushed hotly. "She is very handsome, very fascinating and talented,"
he said; "but would never suit me. Nor do I suppose I could win her if I
wished."

"Indeed! if you are so hard to please, I fear there will be nothing for
you but old bachelorhood," laughed Elsie. "I have picked her out for you,
and I believe you could win her if you tried, Harold; but I shall not try
to become a match-maker."

"No, I must select for myself; I couldn't let even you choose for me."

"Choose what?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, stepping out upon the veranda, where
Harold stood leaning against a vine-wreathed pillar, his blue eyes fixed
with a sort of wistful, longing look upon Elsie's graceful figure and fair
face, as she sat in a half-reclining posture on a low couch but a few
feet from him.

"A wife," he answered, compelling himself to speak lightly.

"Don't let her do it," said Mr. Dinsmore, taking a seat by his daughter's
side; "I've warned her more than once not to meddle with match-making."
And he shook his head at her with mock gravity.

"I won't any more, papa; I'll leave him to his own devices, since he shows