er in the way of musical perfection.

"Uncle," Rhoda Holland said one day, "do put off that old hat. Aunt
Vesta could love you so much better! People think it is cruel, uncle.
Oh, listen to your wife's heart and not to your pride."

"Stop!" said Milburn. "One more reference to my honest hat and you shall
be sent back to Sinepuxent and Mrs. Somers."

It may have been this dreadful threat, or rising ambition, or the
fascinations of Judge Custis's position and attentions and remarkable
gallantry, that disposed Rhoda to turn her worldly sagacity upon the
father of her friend.

The visit to Annapolis occupied the whole winter; as it proceeded, Judge
Custis, suppressing the temptations of the table, and feeling his later
responsibilities thoughtfully, and desirous of a fixed settlement in a
home again, felt a powerful passion to possess Rhoda Holland.

He contended against it in vain. Her beauty and coquetry, and ambition,
too, seized his fancy, and worked strongly upon his imagination. He had
seen her grow from a forest rose to be the noblest flower of the garden,
superb in health, rich in colors, tall and bright and warm, and easily
aware of her conquests, and with a magical touch and encouragement. She
began to lead him on from mere mischief. He was wise, and observant of
women, and he threw himself in the place of her instructor and courtier.
She became his pupil, and an exacting one, driving his energies onward,
demanding his full attention, stimulating his mind; and Vesta soon saw
that her father was a blind captive in the cool yet self-fluttered
meshes of her connection.

"Is there any law, husband," Vesta asked, "to prevent Rhoda marrying
Judge Custis?"

"I think not. There is no consanguinity. In a society where every degree
of cousins marry together, it would be as gratuitous to interfere in
such a marriage as to forbid my hat by law."

"He is so enamoured of her," said Vesta, "that I fear the results of her
refusing him upon his habits. Father is a better man than he ever was: a
wife that can retain his interest will now keep him steady all his
life."

The adjournment of the Legislature was at hand; another year, and
perhaps years unforeseen in number, were to be occupied in the same
slow, illusive quest.

Judge Custis found himself one morning early above the dome of the old
state-house, where he frequently went at that hour with Rhoda Holland,
to look out upon the bay and the town and "Severn's silver