oom, with tears sparkling in his eyes and a generous flush on
his face.

"Mellen," he said, wringing Grantley's hand, "I want to be married
to-morrow, and carry her away."

"Fuller, what is the meaning of this?" demanded Mellen, pained and
surprised, while Elizabeth stood up aghast at this sudden outburst.

"It means just this, Mellen, I don't care a tin whistle for what has
gone before, and I feel strong enough to take care of anything that may
come after. Your sister loves me, and I love her, that's enough. I am
satisfied, and--there--that's enough. The whole thing is a family
secret, and who is going to be the wiser. I only hope they have dug the
fellow's grave deep enough, that's all."

"But, Fuller, have you reflected?"

"Reflected! I've done nothing else for a week, and this is just what it
has brought me to. So give us your hand."

Elizabeth came up to Tom, put her arms around his neck, and burst into
tears.

"That's the time o' day," shouted Tom. "Silence gives consent; now just
give us a good brotherly grip of the hand, Mellen, and it's all right."

Tom folded one arm around his cousin, and held out the other a second
time. Mellen took it in his, wrung it warmly, and left the room.

"Just go in and comfort her a little, Bessie, poor darling, she's afraid
you won't consent."

"Generous, noble fellow," said Elizabeth, kissing him with warmth; "but
where will you go? what will you do? It is all so very sudden."

"Do! what on earth can I do but love her like distraction? Go! any place
where she can find life and fun, plenty of shopping. Paris, isn't that a
nice sort of place for pretty things? I think we'll go to Paris first.
But, I forgot, Rhodes's daughter, the old maid, is waiting for you
downstairs. Victoria would have told you if I hadn't shut her out."

Elizabeth went down, leaving Tom in the only spot he cared to occupy on
earth. She found Miss Jemima in a state of wild commotion, with her
riding-dress buttoned awry, and one of her gauntlets torn half off with
hard pulling.

"Did you know it? had you any suspicion?" she demanded, confronting
Elizabeth like a grenadier; "I could think it of your sister, but
you--you--"

"What is it? I know nothing," answered Elizabeth.

"They are married, absolutely married; my par and that painted lay
figure you introduced to him, that Mrs. Harrington."

"What, your father married to her!" cried Elizabeth; "you surprise me."

"It's a solemn truth, though