ing of your words, and why is
there such sadness in your face?"

"There ought not to be sadness in it," he said, "when I'm sure of
you--you will be my guardian angel may be yet."

"Art, have you any particular meanin' in what you say?"

"I'll tell you all," said he, "when we are married."

Margaret was generous-minded, and, as the reader may yet acknowledge,
heroic; there was all the boldness and bravery of innocence about her,
and she could scarcely help attributing Art's last words to some fact
connected with his feelings, or, perhaps, to circumstances which his
generosity prevented him from disclosing. A thought struck her--

"Art," said she, "the sooner this is settled the better; as it is, if
you'll be guided by me, we won't let the sun set upon it; walk up with
me to my father's house, come in, and in the name of God, we'll leave
nothing unknown to him. He is a hard man, but he has a heart, and he is
better a thousand times than he is reported. I know it."

"Come," said Art, "let us go; he may be richer, but there's the blood,
and the honesty, and good name of the Maguires against his wealth--"

A gentle pressure on his arm, when he mentioned the word wealth, and he
was silent.

"My darlin' Margaret," said he, "oh how unworthy I am of you!"

"Now," said she, "lave me to manage this business my own way. Your good
sense will tell you when to spake; but whatever my father says, trate
him with respect--lave the rest to me."

On entering, they found Murray and his wife in the little parlor--the
former smoking his pipe, and the latter darning a pair of stockings.

"Father," said Margaret, "Art Maguire convoyed me home; but, indeed, I
must say, I was forced to ask him."

"Art Maguire. Why, then, upon my sounds, Art, I'm glad to see you. An'
how are you, man alive? an' how is Frank, eh? As grave as a jidge, as
he always was--ha, ha, ha! Take a chair, Art, and be sittin'. Peggy,
gluntha me, remimber, you must have Art at your weddin'. It's now widin
three days of the time I'm to know who he is; and upon my sounds, I'm
like a hen on a hot griddle till I hear it."

"You're not within three days, father."

"But I say I am, accordin' to your own countin'."

"You're not within three hours, father;"--her face 'glowed, and her
whole system became vivified with singular and startling energy as she
spoke;--"no, you are not within three hours, father; not within three
minutes, my dear father; for there stands the ma