a
regret that the house itself was under lock and bar. And so the sun
set, and the twilight came on, and the guests were permitted to order
round their carriages and depart, the Ballisters accompanying them to
the gate. And, on the return of the family through the avenue, excuses
were made for idling hither and thither, till light began to show
through the trees, and, by the time of their arrival at the lawn, the
low windows of the cottage poured forth streams of light, and the open
doors, and servants busy within, completed a scene more like magic than
reality. Philip was led in by the excited girl who was the fairy of the
spell, and his astonishment at the discovery of his statuary and
pictures, books and furniture, arranged in complete order within, was
fed upon with the passionate delight of love in authority.

When an hour had been spent in examining and admiring the different
apartments, an inner room was thrown open, in which supper was
prepared, and this fourth act in the day's drama was lingered over in
untiring happiness by the family.

Mrs. Ballister, the mother, rose and retired, and Philip pleaded
indisposition, and begged to be shown to the room allotted to him. This
was ringing-up the curtain for the last act sooner than had been
planned by Fanny, but she announced herself as his chamberlain, and,
with her hands affectionately crossed on his arm, led him to a suite of
rooms in a wing still unvisited, and, with a goodnight kiss, left him
at the open door of the revived studio, furnished for the night with a
bachelor's bed. Turning upon the threshold, he closed the door with a
parting wish of sweet dreams, and Fanny, after listening a moment with
a vain hope of overhearing some expression of pleasure, and lingering
again on her way back, to be overtaken by her surprised lover, sought
her own bed without rejoining the circle, and passed a sleepless and
happy night of tears and joy.

Breakfast was served the next morning on a terrace overlooking the
river, and it was voted by acclamation that Fanny never before looked
so lovely. As none but the family were to be present, she had stolen a
march on her marriage wardrobe, and added to her demi-toilet a morning
cap of exquisite becomingness. Altogether she looked deliciously
wife-like, and did the honors of the breakfast-table with a grace and
sweetness that warmed out love and compliments even from the sober soil
of household intimacy. Philip had not yet mad