--and now I am to lose you!" And he fell upon her neck,
and clasped her fondly to his heart.

"Oh, my dear father, if you knew--" She could not continue.

"And don't I know!" broke he in. "Do you think that all my hard, bad
experience of life has left me so bereft of feeling! But I 'll tell you
another thing I know, Lizzy," said he, in a deep, calm voice; "that what
we fancy must break our hearts to do we can bear, and bear patiently,
and, what's more, so learn to conform to, that after a few years of life
we wonder that we ever thought them hardships!"

"We do not change so much without heavy suffering!" said she,
sorrowfully.

"That is possible too," said he, sighing. Then, suddenly rallying, he
said, "You'll write to me often, very often, Lizzy; I 'll want to hear
how you get on with these great folk; not that I fear anything, only
this, girl, that their jealousy will stimulate their rancor. You are so
handsome, girl! so handsome!"

"I 'm glad of it," said she, with an air of proud exultation.

"Who's there?" cried Davis, impatiently, as a sharp knock came to the
door. It was the Reverend Paul come to borrow a white neckcloth, none of
his own being sufficiently imposing for such an occasion.

"I am scarcely presentable, Miss Davis. I am sure I address Miss Davis,"
said he, pushing into the room, and bowing ceremoniously at each step.
"There can be but only one so eminently beautiful!"

"There, take what you want, and be off!" cried Davis, rudely.

"Your father usurps all the privileges of long friendship, and emboldens
me to claim some, too, my dear young lady. Let me kiss the fairest hand
in Christendom." And with a reverential homage all his own, Paul bent
down and touched her hand with his lips.

"This is the Reverend Paul Classon, Lizzy," said Davis,--"a great
dignitary of the Church, and an old schoolfellow of mine."

"I am always happy to know a friend of my father's," said she, smiling
gracefully. "You have only just arrived?"

"This moment!" said he, with a glance towards Grog.

"There, away with you, and finish your dressing," broke in Davis,
angrily; "I see it is nigh seven o'clock."

"Past seven, rather; and the company assembled below stairs, and Mr.
Beecher--for I presume it must be he--pacing the little terrace in all
the impatience of a bride-groom. Miss Davis, your servant." And with a
bow of deep reverence Paul retired.

"There were so many things running in my mind to say to you, Li