fer of marriage from a man who is in every
sense worthy of me. Indeed, I am not worthy of him."

"Of whom are you speaking?"

"Of Mr. Spence, father."

"Spence? I do not recall the name."

"You have met him only once, I think. He came to the house one
afternoon, about a year ago, with that Mr. Barr who dines here
sometimes."

"Oh!"

I cannot give a precise idea of that ejaculation. It was a strange
mixture of pleasantry and consternation.

"He is by profession a poet,--and a philosopher. His writings are highly
thought of among literary people, and he is an intimate friend of Aunt
Agnes," I said quietly.

"What answer did you give him?" asked my father presently, with a weary
air. He leaned his head on his hand, and listened intently and
anxiously.

"I told him I would think the matter over," I replied.

"He is not the husband I would have chosen for you, Virginia," he said,
after a silence. "But you must suit yourself. Now that you recall him to
me, I know who this Mr. Spence is. I have seen his name in the
newspapers, and a few weeks ago I remember he delivered a lecture before
the Thursday Evening Club. It was a visionary, unpractical address, I
thought. Several members spoke to me of it as such. But there were one
or two enthusiasts--as there are everywhere--who extolled it as a marvel
of originality and cleverness. Are you sure of his habits?"

"His habits ought to be good, for he is the advocate of the theory of
Moderation. It is to that he devotes the greater part of his time. Yes,
father, I am sure of them."

"I remember now,--Moderation. That was what he talked about. He is one
of your so-called reformers. He gets hold of an idea and tries to fit
the world to it. And you say you wish to marry him, Virginia?"

"I have not said so. I don't know."

"If you take my advice, you will not. I know nothing further of him than
you have told me. The better philosopher a man is, the worse husband he
is likely to make. Has he anything to live upon?"

"Yes; enough to support us comfortably, I believe. In fact, he does not
wish me to take any money from you."

"That shows him a more independent minded fellow than I supposed. Humph!
One literary woman in the family ought to be enough. Still, the great
thing is that you should be suited. We are not all cut after the same
pattern, and if you have a fancy for a husband of that type, I shall not
stand in the way. I interfered once, but that was a very differen