came often and stayed long, and was ever
welcome; for though Mary Goddard's youth returned with the daffodils and
the roses of the first spring after Walter's death, John's fleeting
passion returned not, and perhaps its place was better taken. Year by
year, as he came to refresh himself from hard work with a breath of the
country air, he saw the little girl grow to the young maiden of sixteen,
and he saw her beauty ripen again to the fulness of womanhood; and at
last, when she was one and twenty years of age he in his turn put out his
hand and asked her to take him--which she did, for better or worse, but
to all appearances for better. For John Short had prospered mightily in
the world, and had come to think his first great success as very small
and insignificant as compared with what he had done since. But his old
simplicity was in him yet, and was the cause of much of his prosperity,
as it generally is when it is found together with plenty of brains. It
was doubtless because he was so very simple that when he found that he
loved Eleanor Goddard he did not hesitate to ask the convict's daughter
to be his wife. His interview with Mr. Juxon was characteristic.

"You know what you are doing, John?" asked the squire. He always called
him John, now.

"Perfectly," replied the scholar, "I am doing precisely what my betters
have done before me with such admirable result."

"Betters?"

"You. You knew about it all and you married her mother. I know all about
it, and I wish to marry herself."

"You know that she never heard the story?"

"Yes. She never shall."

"No, John--she never must. Well, all good go with you."

So Charles Juxon gave his consent. And Mary Juxon consented too; but for
the first time in many years the tears rose again to her eyes, and she
laid her hand on John's arm, as they walked together in the park.

"Oh, John," she said, "do you think it is right--for you yourself?"

"Of course I think so," quoth John stoutly.

"You John--with your reputation, your success, with the whole world at
your feet--you ought not to marry the daughter of--of such a man."

"My dear Mrs. Juxon," said John Short, "is she not your daughter as well
as his? Pray, pray do not mention that objection. I assure you I have
thought it all over. There is really nothing more to be said, which I
have not said to myself. Dear Mrs. Juxon--do say Yes!"

"You are very generous, John, as well as great," she answered looking up
to his