daughter ceases one day."

"Ay, no doubt," says Phil; "when she becomes of legal age. But even
then, without her father's consent--"

"Why, now," she interrupted, "suppose her father's authority over her
passed to somebody else; somebody of her father's own preference;
somebody that her father already knew was going to England: could her
father forbid his taking her?"

"But, 'tis impossible," replied mystified Phil. "To whom in the world
would your father pass his authority over you? He is hale and hearty;
there's not the least occasion for a guardian."

"Why, fathers _do_, you know."

"Upon my soul, I don't see--"

"I vow you don't! You are the blindest fellow! Didn't Polly
Livingstone's father give up his authority over her the other day--to
Mr. Ludlow?"

"Certainly, to her husband."

"Well!"

"Margaret--do you mean--? But you can't mean _that_?" Phil had not the
voice to say more, emerging so suddenly from the clouds of puzzlement
to the yet uncertain sunshine of joy.