But the happy hour is past too soon; and, home again, they mixed once
more with those conflicting elements of hatred and contention.

"Emily," asked the general, in a very unusual stretch of curiosity,
"where have you been to with Charles Tracy? You look flushed, my dear;
what's the matter?"

Of course "nothing" was the matter: and the general was answered wisely,
for love was nothing in his average estimate of men and women.

"Charles, what can have come to you? I never saw you look so happy in my
life," was the mother's troublesome inquiry; "why, our staid youth
positively looks cheerful."

Charles's walk had refreshed him, taken away his head-ache, put him in
spirits, and all manner of glib reasons for rejoicing.

"You were right, Julian," whispered Mrs. Tracy, "and we'll soon put the
stopper on all this sort of thing."

So, then, the moment our guiltless pair of lovers had severally stolen
away to their own rooms, there to feast on well-remembered looks, and
words, and hopes--there to lay before that heavenly Friend, whom both
had learned to trust, all their present joys, as aforetime all their
cares--Mrs. Tracy looked significantly at Julian, and thus addressed her
ever stern-eyed lord:

"So, general, the old song's coming true to us, I find, as to other
folks, who once were young together: