e girl who
had given me the fall on the tilt. She could not control an expression
of surprise at the sight of the well-dressed woman before her. It was
my dress that astonished her. Where could _I_ have obtained style?

"Miss Alden, how do you do? Pray tell me whether you have collected
any correct legends respecting my mother's early history. And do you
tilt off little girls nowadays?"

She made no reply, and I left her standing where she was when I began
speaking. When we got out of town, my anger cooled, and I grew ashamed
of my spitefulness, and by way of penance I related the affair to
father. He laughed at what I said to her, and told me that he had long
known her family. Charlotte's uncle had paid his addresses to mother.
There might have been an engagement; whether there was or not, the
influence of his family had broken the acquaintance. This explained
what Charlotte said to me in Miss Black's school about mother's being
in love.

"You might have been angry with the girl, but you should not have felt
hurt at the fact implied. Are you so young still as to believe that
only those who love marry? or that those who marry have never loved,
except each other?"

"I have thought of these things; but I am afraid that Love, like
Theology, if examined, makes one skeptical."

We jogged along in silence for a mile or two.

"Whether every man's children overpower him, I wonder? I am positively
afraid of you and Veronica."

"What do you mean?"

"I am always unprepared for the demonstrations of character you and
she make. My traditional estimate, which comes from thoughtfulness, or
the putting off of responsibility, or God knows what, I find will not
answer. I have been on my guard against that which everyday life might
present--a lie, a theft, or a meanness; but of the undercurrent, which
really bears you on, I have known nothing."

"If you happen to dive below the surface, and find the roots of our
actions which are fixed beneath its tide--what then? Must you lament
over us?"

"No, no; but this is vague talk."

Was he dissatisfied with me? What could he expect? We all went our
separate ways, it is true; was it that? Perhaps he felt alone. I
studied his face; it was not so cheerful as I remembered it once, but
still open, honest, and wholesome. I promised myself to observe his
tastes and consult them. It might be that his self-love had never been
encouraged. But I failed in that design, as in all others.

"Mu