married on the fourteenth proximo, and
leave for Europe immediately afterward," said Mr. Fabian, seating
himself.

"That is right. I am glad that you will sail in February. You will
thereby escape the winds of March and the tempests of the spring
equinox," said the Iron King, sententiously.

"I am very glad you approve," said Mr. Fabian.

Old Aaron Rockharrt nodded in silence.

Fabian looked at him; saw that the old man looked grave, depressed, yet
stern and strong as adamant. He felt very sorry for his father. His own
present happiness rendered good-natured Mr. Fabian very compassionate
toward the lonely old widower. He had something, inspired by this
compassion, to suggest to the old man, yet he feared to do so
straightforwardly.

"Father," he said at length, for he didn't mind lying the least in the
world--"Father, I heard a strange report about you this morning."

"Indeed! What was it? That I had failed in business, or quadrupled my
fortune?" inquired the egotist, who was always interested when the
question concerned himself.

"Neither, sir. I heard you were going to be married."

"Fabian!" sternly exclaimed the Iron King, darkly gathering his brows.

"Yes, sir," said the benevolent Mr. Fabian, who, now that the ice was
broken, could go on lying glibly with the best intentions and without
the slightest scruple; "yes, sir; you know such rumors must necessarily
get afloat about such a fine-looking, marriageable man as yourself."

"Ah! and since the community have made so free, pray what lady's name
have they honored me by associating with mine?" inquired the Iron King
somewhat sarcastically, yet not ill-pleased to learn that he was still
to be considered a great prize in the matrimonial market.

"Why, of course there could be but one lady in the question; and
equally, of course, you will be able to place her," said Mr. Fabian,
smiling.

"Upon my soul, I am not."

"Well, then, the lady to whom you are reported to be engaged is the
beautiful Mrs. Bloomingfield."

"Who?"

"The beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Bloomingfield, with whom you sat
and talked during the whole evening of the governor's State dinner
party."

"Oh, the widow of General Bloomingfield, who died three years ago. Yes,
I remember her--a very fine creature, most certainly--but I never
dreamed of her in the light of a wife. In fact, I never dreamed of
marrying again," said the Iron King, speaking with unusual gentleness.

Mr. Fabian