ny shape. Sparks was humbled so far that he would
probably feel it a relief to make any proposition; so that by our opposite
courses we had both arrived at a point at which all the dexterity and
address of the family had been long since aiming without success.
Conversation then resumed its flow, and in a few minutes every trace of our
late _fracas_ had disappeared.

By degrees I felt myself more and more disposed to turn my attention
towards Matilda, and dropping my voice into a lower tone, opened a
flirtation of a most determined kind. Fanny had, meanwhile, assumed a place
beside Sparks, and by the muttered tones that passed between them, I could
plainly perceive they were similarly occupied. The major took up the
"Southern Reporter," of which he appeared deep in the contemplation, while
Mrs. Dal herself buried her head in her embroidery and neither heard nor
saw anything around her.

I know, unfortunately, but very little what passed between myself and my
fair companion; I can only say that when supper was announced at twelve (an
hour later than usual), I was sitting upon the sofa with my arm round
her waist, my cheek so close that already her lovely tresses brushed my
forehead, and her breath fanned my burning brow.

"Supper, at last," said the major, with a loud voice, to arouse us from
our trance of happiness without taking any mean opportunity of looking
unobserved. "Supper, Sparks, O'Malley; come now, it will be some time
before we all meet this way again."

"Perhaps not so long, after all," said I, knowingly.

"Very likely not," echoed Sparks, in the same key.

"I've proposed for Fanny," said he, whispering in my ear.

"Matilda's mine," replied I, with the look of an emperor.

"A word with you, Major," said Sparks, his eye flashing with enthusiasm,
and his cheek scarlet. "One word,--I'll not detain you."

They withdrew into a corner for a few seconds, during which Mrs. Dalrymple
amused herself by wondering what the secret could be, why Mr. Sparks
couldn't tell her, and Fanny meanwhile pretended to look for something at a
side table, and never turned her head round.

"Then give me your hand," said the major, as he shook Sparks's with a
warmth of whose sincerity there could be no question. "Bess, my love," said
he, addressing his wife. The remainder was lost in a whisper; but whatever
it was, it evidently redounded to Sparks's credit, for the next moment a
repetition of the hand-shaking took place, and S