--it might startle her to make downright love abruptly; and
now that he had an ally in her own household, and was to have access
to her with a freedom he had never before enjoyed, there was a
refined pleasure in playing his fish,--this gamest of golden-scaled
creatures,--which had risen to his fly, and which he wished to hook, but
not to land, until he was sure it would be worth his while.

They entered the little parlor at the Parsonage looking so beaming,
that Olive and Bathsheba exchanged glances which implied so much that it
would take a full page to tell it with all the potentialities involved.

"How magnificent Myrtle is this evening, Bathsheba!" said Cyprian
Eveleth, pensively.

"What a handsome pair they are, Cyprian!" said Bathsheba cheerfully.

Cyprian sighed. "She always fascinates me whenever I look upon her.
Is n't she the very picture of what a poet's love should be,--a poem
herself,--a glorious lyric,--all light and music! See what a smile the
creature has! And her voice! When did you ever hear such tones? And when
was it ever so full of life before."

Bathsheba sighed. "I do not know any poets but Gifted Hopkins. Does not
Myrtle look more in her place by the side of Murray Bradshaw than she
would with Gifted hitched on her arm?"

Just then the poet made his appearance. He looked depressed, as if it
had cost him an effort to come. He was, however, charged with a message
which he must deliver to the hostess of the evening.

"They 're coming presently," he said. "That young man and Susan. Wants
you to introduce him, Mr. Bradshaw."

The bell rang presently, and Murray Bradshaw slipped out into the entry
to meet the two lovers.

"How are you, my fortunate friend?" he said, as he met them at the door.
"Of course you're well and happy as mortal man can be in this vale of
tears. Charming, ravishing, quite delicious, that way of dressing your
hair, Miss Posey! Nice girls here this evening, Mr. Lindsay. Looked
lovely when I came out of the parlor. Can't say how they will show
after this young lady puts in an appearance." In reply to which florid
speeches Susan blushed, not knowing what else to do, and Clement smiled
as naturally as if he had been sitting for his photograph.

He felt, in a vague way, that he and Susan were being patronized, which
is not a pleasant feeling to persons with a certain pride of character.
There was no expression of contempt about Mr. Bradshaw's manner or
language at which he