dvantage of the privilege of friendship, telling you every thought
which crosses my mind, I make up for my long silence, and you will not
take it amiss. Truly it seems that Providence intends to make me a good
husband and father as on the eve of the important step I am about to
take it relieves my mind from all anxiety regarding it. If I had not
met you, I should never, even in the midst of every domestic felicity,
have been able to rid myself of the fear that some day or other you
would appear, and turn my head as you did years ago. Now that you know
my intentions and that we have placed our friendship on a warm, and
steady footing, I can start on to-morrow's expedition in search of a
wife, with an easy heart."

They had both risen, and now admired the flowers. "How beautiful this
candelabra is," she remarked. "Fortuna subjected by man, and made to
give him light."

"I believe it to represent the goddess of victory. The ball on which
fortune glides from us, is wanting here, but Victory remains faithful
to the daring."

"In that case Victory by serving you on the eve of your expedition,
foretells you good luck."

"I see you doubt my courage Madam. Certainly you above all others have
a right to do so. But this time I hope to manage my affairs better than
I did fourteen years ago. I intend to challenge my fortune, be it good,
or bad, and force an answer from it. If she smiles on me, I promise you
that to you first, I shall be the herald of my heroic achievement. But
enough of myself as a topic; as yet you have told me nothing of your
own life, and how the years have passed with you. I could not muster
courage to make enquiries about you. After I heard that you were
married, I studiously avoided every place where tidings of you could
reach me. I am even unacquainted with the name of your husband. Will
you introduce me to him. He probably has accompanied you here?"

"I lost my husband seven years ago."

He started--"My son is all that is left to me," she resumed, "and I
must now part with him. He has become quite unruly from staying with my
mother in the country, and even if I could find a tutor who knew how to
manage him, I should be sorry to see him pass the merry time of youth
without any companions of his own age."

"I long to see him," he hastily said, without lifting his eyes from the
flowers in her hand. "So he has lost his father; poor child! When he
has grown up you must send him on a visit to me. I will ta