-colored
damask; the floor was covered with a richly tufted carpet bordered
with flowers, and sofas and easy chairs were temptingly arranged. On a
table in the centre of the room, and under an elaborately chased
lamp, were implements for letter-writing, magazines, and newspapers.
Through the folding-doors we caught a glimpse of well-filled
book-shelves, and a woman's voice came floating out to the rich,
mellow accompaniment of the piano. There was the rustle of a silk
dress. I turned my head.

"This is my ambition," said my friend, while a look of pride blended
with the manly expression of his handsome face.

There stood Gretchen--the Gretchen I had known ten years before; no
longer the slight blushing girl, but mature in her beauty, a happy
wife and mother; the same sweet smile on her lips, and her eye full of
gushing gladness as she welcomed me to her home.

The fire was blazing cheerily, and we three talking of the old times,
with hardly a thought of the broken links between.

"The college is still the same," said my friend, "with the high
cupola and long galleries. Gretchen and I visited it last summer;
there were few that we knew, and many of the professors have slipped
away. Gretchen's father was one of these. We missed him in his quiet
home, and above all, in the old church. A man with dark hair and black
flashing eyes stood in his place--a learned, man, but wanting in the
inward fire, the simple eloquence of the old man we used to love.
After service, I strolled past the college buildings, and tried to
trace the names we cut on the old beeches, but they were all
overgrown."

"I know nothing that brings home to the heart so quickly the
consciousness of increasing years, as to find those whom we used to
look upon as children grown to maturity, taking upon themselves the
care and responsibility of life. Here is Gretchen; a deeper bloom
upon her cheek, and her eye sparkling with a higher pride."

"Just as mid-day is brighter than the morning," said my friend.

Down the hall came the pattering of little feet, and the nurse entered
with two stout boys and a lovely girl, a second Gretchen, the same
roguish blue eyes, and golden hair rippling away from her white
forehead:

"These are my hopes," said the father, and a smile curled his lip,
amid, his eye filled with tenderness as he glanced at Gretchen's face.
Lingering over the tea-table where Gretchen presided with more than
youthful grace, we talked not only