ncy such. I'll tell you what! I believe I will go back and
court Bertie on some of her play-acting rounds, and mate a decent woman
of that little vagabond. Because she was disappointed once, is that a
reason? Great Heavens! this tongue of mine! Cut it out, Mrs. Wentworth,
and cast it to the seals in the bay. I came very near--"

"Betraying what I have long suspected. Major Favraud. Who _was_ that
man?"

"Don't ask me, my dear woman; I must not say another word, in honor. It
was a most unfortunate affair--a sheer misunderstanding. He loved her
all the time; I knew this, but you know her manner! He did not
understand her flippant way; her keen, unsparing, and bitter wit; her
devoted, passionate, proud, and breaking heart; and so there was a
coolness, and they parted; and what happened afterward nearly killed
her! So she left her home."[8]

"I must not ask you, I feel, for you say you cannot tell me more in
honor, but I think I know. The man, of all the earth, I would have
chosen for her. Oh, hard is woman's fate!"

To the very last I have reserved what lay nearest my heart of hearts.

Three children have been born to us in California, and have made our
home a paradise. The two elder are sons, named severally for my father
and theirs, Reginald and Wardour.

The last is a daughter, a second Mabel, beautiful as the first, and
strangely resembling her, though of a stronger frame and more vital
nature. She is the sunshine of the house, the idol of her father and
brothers, who _all_ are mine, as well as the fair child of seven
summers herself.

Mrs. Austin presides, in imagination, over our nursery, but, in reality,
is only its most honored occasional visitor, her chamber being distinct,
and my own rule being absolute therein, with the aid of a docile
adjunct.

Ernest Wentworth, our adopted son--so-called for want of any other
name--is the standard of perfection in mind and morals, for the
imitation of the rest of the band of children.

He has gained the usual stature of young men of his age, with a slight
defect of curvature of the shoulders that does but confirm his scholarly
appearance.

His face, with its magnificent brow, piercing dark eyes, pale
complexion, and clustering hair, is striking, if not handsome.

He has graduated as a student of law, and, should his health permit,
will, I cannot doubt, distinguish himself as a forensic orator.

George Gaston and Madge have promised a visit to the Vernons; but I