uld like you for a companion."

She might have seen irresolution in me, for she added quickly, "You
need not promise--let time decide," and shook my hands kindly.

"Hep, is smitten with you, in her selfish way," Adelaide remarked, as
we rode from the door. She ordered the coachman to drive home by the
"Leslie House," which she wanted me to see. A great aunt had lived
and died there, leaving the house--one of the oldest in Belem--to her
brother Ned.

"Who is he like?"

"Desmond; but worse. There's only a year's difference in their ages.
They were educated together, kept in the nursery till they were great
boys and tyrants, and then sent abroad. They were in Amiens three
years."

"There are Desmond and Ben; they are walking in the street we are
passing."

She looked out.

"They are quarreling, I dare say. Ben is a prig, and preaches to Des."

While we were in the house, and Adelaide talked with the old servant
of her aunt, my thoughts were occupied with Desmond. What had they
quarreled on? Desmond was pale, and laughed; but Ben was red, and
looked angry.

"Why do you look at me so fixedly?" Adelaide asked, when we were in
the carriage again.

It was on my tongue to say, "Because I am beset." I did not, however;
instead I asked her if she never noticed what a rigid look people wore
in their best bonnets, and holding a card-case? She said, "Yes," and
shook out her handkerchief, as if to correct her own rigidity.

After an early tea she compelled me to sing, and we delayed dressing
till Mrs. Somers bloomed in, with purple satin and feather head-dress.

"Now we must go," she said, "and get ready."

"What shall you wear?" Mrs. Somers asked, advising a certain ugly,
claret-colored silk.

"Be sure not," said Adelaide on the stairs. "That dress makes your
hair too yellow."

I heard loud laughing in the third story, and heavy steps, while I
was in my room; and when I went down, I saw two gentlemen in evening
dress, standing by Desmond, at the piano, and singing, "_Fill, fill
the sparkling brimmer_." They were, as Ann informed me, college
friends of Des, who had arrived for a few days' visit, she supposed;
disagreeable persons, of course. They were often in Belem to ride,
fish, or play billiards. "Pa hates them," she said in conclusion. Mr.
Somers entering at this moment, in his _diplomatique_ style, his gouty
white hands shaded with wristbands, and his throat tied with a white
cravat, appeared to contradict he