h assuaged in a few days by my reading an
article in a New York paper, which gave an account of a meeting of my
Aunt's Society, held in that city. My attention was attracted to this
article by the prominent heading given to it: THEY WORE THEIR CROWNS.
This in very conspicuous Roman capitals, caused me to sit up. There must
have been truth in some of it, because the food eaten by the Scions
was mentioned as consisting of sandwiches, sherry and croquettes; yet I
think that the statement that the members present addressed each
other according to the royal families from which they severally traced
descent, as, for example, Brother Guelph and Sister Plantagenet, can
scarce have beers aught but an exaggeration; nevertheless, the article
brought me undeniable consolation for my disappointment.

After finishing my letter to Aunt Carola I should have hastened out to
post it and escape from Cowpens, had I not remembered that John Mayrant
had more or less promised to meet me here. Now, there was but a
slender chance that he boy would speak to me on the subject of his late
encounter; this I must learn from other sources; but he might speak to
me about something that would open a way for my hostile preparations
against Miss Rieppe. So far he had not touched upon his impending
marriage in any way, but this reserve concerning a fact generally known
among the people whom I was seeing could hardly go on long without
becoming ridiculous. If he should shun mention of it to-day, I would
take this as a plain sign that he did not look forward to it with the
enthusiasm which a lover ought to feel for his approaching bliss; and
on such silence from him I would begin, if I could, to undermine his
intention of keeping an engagement of the heart when the heart no longer
entered into it.

While my thoughts continued to be busied over this lover and his
concerns, I noticed the works of William Shakespeare close beside me
upon a shelf; and although it was with no special purpose in mind that
I took out one of the volumes and sat down with it to wait for John
Mayrant, in a little while an inspiration came to me from its pages,
so that I was more anxious than ever the boy should not fail to meet me
here in the Library.

Was it the bruise on his forehead that had perturbed his manner just now
when he entered the Exchange? No, this was not likely to be the reason,
since he had been full as much embarrassed that first day of my seeing
him there, when