ughter know that I was safe, he
consented, saying, "God bless you, my fine boy; I will see you soon."

When I went up the stairs of Stapleton's lodgings, I found Mary by
herself; she started up as soon as she saw me.

"Where _have_ you been?" said she, half crying, half smiling.

"Under the ice," I replied, "and only thawed again this morning."

"Are you in earnest, Jacob?" said she; "now don't plague and frighten
me, I've been too frightened already; I never slept a wink last night;"
I then told her the circumstances which had occurred. "I was sure
something had happened," she replied. "I told my father so, but he
wouldn't believe it. You promised to be at home to give me my lesson,
and I know you never break your word; but my father smoked away, and
said, that when boys are amused, they forget their promises, and that it
was nothing but human natur'. Oh, Jacob, I'm so glad you're back again,
and after what has happened, I don't mind your kissing me for once."
And Mary held her face towards me, and returned my kiss.

"There, that must last you a long while, recollect," said she, laughing;
"you must not think of another until you're under the ice again."

"Then I trust it will be the last," replied I, laughing.

"You are not in love with me, Jacob, that's clear, or you would not have
made that answer," replied Mary.

I had seen a great deal of Mary, and though she certainly was a great
flirt, yet she had many excellent and amiable qualities. For the first
week after her father had given us the history of his life, his remarks
upon her mother appeared to have made a decided impression upon her, and
her conduct was much more staid and demure; but as the remembrance wore
off, so did her conduct become coquettish and flirting as before; still,
it was impossible not to be fond of her, and even with all her caprice
there was such a fund of real good feeling and amiableness, which, when
called forth, was certain to appear, that I often thought how dangerous
and captivating a girl she would be when she grew up. I had again
produced the books, which I had thrown aside with disgust, to teach her
to read and write. Her improvement was rapid, and would have been still
more so if she had not been just as busy in trying to make me fond of
her as she was in surmounting the difficulties of her lessons. But she
was very young; and although, as her father declared, it was her
_natur'_ to run after the men, there was every