ke you!" he replied. "I hesitated
long about returning, but Jean would have it so."

And Mistress Jean said not a word as I took her hand in mine, but her
face was mantled in scarlet and her eyes were downcast.

The prim old garden of the Nicholsons never looked more charming, the
flowers more sweet and beautiful, or the green boxwood hedges more
suggestive of rest and repose; the lazy waters of the Chester rolled
along at its foot, gently lapping the grass. Ah! the sun was shining
on a glorious world that day, for Mistress Jean walked beside me.

"Mistress Jean," said I, as we stood where the waters met the grass
and looked out over the broad and silent river, flowing on and on as
if to eternity, "our lives have been more like mountain torrents than
the broad smooth river here. We have lived through the battles and
sieges, seen blood and death and all the horrors of a great war, but
now that peace has come, and our course lies through pleasant fields
and verdant meadows, would it not be best for them to join and flow on
as this great river does, Jean? Ah, Jean, you know how much I love
you."

And then she placed her hand in mine; her eyes spoke that which I most
wished to know, and the very earth seemed glorious.

I know not how long we stood there, when there came Mistress Nancy
Nicholson's voice through the garden, calling, "Jean, Jean, where are
you?"

"Here," she answered; and with that Mistress Nancy came running round
the hedge.

"Oh, Jean," she cried, "Dick has proposed."

And then, seeing me, she stamped her little foot, and cried, "Oh,
bother!" blushing meanwhile as red as one of her roses.

"And so have I, Mistress Nancy," I replied.

* * * * *

And now, my children, I end this tale, sitting here on the old porch
at Fairlee. The pen drops from my hand, but my eyes are not too dim to
see the flash of the sunlight on the waters of the great bay through
the break in the trees.

Nor are they too dim, Miss Jean, in spite of the impertinent toss of
your head, to see in you the likeness of the maid that led me such a
wild dance in the days of my youth. And I promise you, if you do not
smile on young Dick Ringgold and stop your outrageous treatment of
him, I will not leave you a cent in my will.

There, there; I retract every word that I said. Was there ever so
audacious a monkey in the world?

There, I have finished. Oh, yes, I forgot--

"John Cotton, bring me some