cannot give her a prominent position in society. Imagine my horror,
John, when I discovered last evening that my only child, whom I have so
fondly cherished, has ungratefully deceived me. Carried away by the
impetuous avowals of this young scapegrace, whom his own father disowns,
she has confessed her love for him--love for a pauper!--and only by the
most stringent exercise of my authority have I been able to exact from
Louise a promise that she will not become formally engaged to Arthur
Weldon, or even correspond with him, until she has returned home. By
that time I shall have learned more of his history and prospects, when I
can better decide whether to allow the affair to go on. Of course I have
hopes that in case my fears are proven to have been well founded, I can
arouse Louise to a proper spirit and induce her to throw the fellow
over. Meantime, I implore you, as my daughter's temporary guardian, not
to allow Louise to speak of or dwell upon this young man, but try to
interest her in other gentlemen whom you may meet and lead her to
forget, if possible, her miserable entanglement. Consider a loving
mother's feelings, John. Try to help me in this emergency, and I shall
be forever deeply grateful."

"It's from mother, isn't it?" asked Louise, when he had finished reading
the letter.

"Yes," he answered gruffly, as he crumpled the missive and stuffed it
into his pocket.

"What does she say, Uncle?"

"Nothing but rubbish and nonsense. Eat your soup, my dear; it's getting
cold."