w, what ails you?"

"Nothing at all ails me, my dear fellow. If anything did, I would tell
you sooner than I would my own father."

"Not in love--are you, Ned?" added Tom, straightening up, and looking
full into the face of his friend. "By the way, where is the daughter of
that member of Congress whom you used to be sweet upon?"

"She has gone to Cuba to spend the winter," replied Edward.

"I see just how the land lies now. She has gone to Cuba for her health,
and you are pining away in solitude in the frozen north. But, Ned,
didn't you write me that the affair had slipped up, fallen through, or
something of that sort?"

"I thought it had; but I didn't know myself," replied the lover, with a
sigh.

"O, ho! I see. She's a beautiful girl. Upon my word, I envy you, Ned.
If you hadn't stepped in before me, my dear fellow, I should have fallen
into that trap myself."

"Don't say anything about a trap, Tom. You make me shudder."

"What ails you, Ned? Isn't it all smooth--the course of true love, and
all that sort of thing? Has she given you the mitten?"

"No, no. Everything is lovely so far as she is concerned."

"Is her father inimical? Does her mother dislike you, or her grandmother
frown upon your hopes?"

"No. Her father and mother are entirely satisfied to let the affair take
its course."

"Then what are you moping about?" demanded Tom.

"The opposition comes from my father," answered Edward, as he tacked the
boat, and stood off on a long stretch, evidently with the intention of
telling his friend all about it.

"What has your father to do with it?" asked Tom.

"He dislikes her father."

"But, if I understand you correctly, you don't purpose to marry her
father."

"There is an old feud, a political affair, between them. The row
occurred while I was away from home, fitting for college," added Edward,
as he proceeded to disclose his present relations with Sara Medway, and
to explain the nature and intensity of his father's opposition to the
match.

"That's awkward, Ned," said Tom. "Your governor is a hard case on a
feud."

"But in everything else he is as indulgent as he can be. I tried to be
dutiful, even in a matter of this kind; and I did not see Miss Medway
for three months. Then I heard she was ill, and my conscience reproached
me. I called to see her. I shall never forget the expression of joy she
bestowed upon me. She is as much attached to me as I am to her, and I
know that if I desert her