"Hardly," was the smiling reply. "At all events I have not felt like
wasting much but pleasant sympathy upon you. Your pathway to happiness
looks secure, my boy."

His nephew gave him a wistful glance, but hid his thought whatever it
was. "I am going to see her to-night," remarked he. "I am afraid my love
is something like a torrent that has once burst its barrier; it cannot
rest until it has worked its channel and won its rightful repose."

"That is something the way with all love," returned his uncle. "It may
be dallied with while asleep, but once aroused, better meet a lion in
his fury or a tempest in its rush. Are you going to test your hope,
to-night?"

The young man flushed. "I cannot say." But in another moment gayly
added, "I only know that I am prepared for any emergency."

"Well, my boy, I wish you God-speed. If ever a man has won a right to
happiness, you are that man; and you shall enjoy it too, if any word or
action of mine can serve to advance it."

"Thank you!" replied Bertram, and with a bright look around the
apartment, prepared to take his leave. "When I come back," he remarked,
with a touch of that manly _naivete_ to which I have before alluded, "I
hope I shall not find you alone."

Ignoring this wish which was re-echoed somewhat too deeply within his
own breast for light expression, Mr. Sylvester accompanied his nephew to
the front door.

"Let us see what kind of a night it is," observed he, stepping out upon
the stoop. "It is going to rain."

"So it is," returned Bertram, with a quick glance overhead; "but I shall
not let such a little fuss as that deter me from fulfilling my
engagement." And bestowing a hasty nod upon his uncle, he bounded down
the step.

Instantly a man who was loitering along the walk in front of the house,
stopped, as if struck by these simple words, turned, gave Bertram a
quick look, and then with a sly glance back at the open door where Mr.
Sylvester still stood gazing at the lowering heavens, set himself
cautiously to follow him.

Mr. Sylvester, who was too much pre-occupied to observe this suspicious
action, remained for a moment contemplating the sky; then with an
aimless glance down the avenue, during which his eye undoubtedly fell
upon Bertram and the creeping shadow of a man behind him, closed the
door and returned to the library.

The sight of another's joy has the tendency to either unduly depress the
spirits or greatly to elate them. When Paula came