d at, aunt Mary was inclined to say that
all was as little well as might be.

There was still to be seen there the beauty, and the dignity, and
still even in part the composure of a Juno; but it was such composure
as Juno might have shown while she devoted to a third destruction
the walls of a thrice-built Troy; of Juno in grief, in jealousy,
almost in despair; but of Juno still mindful of her pedestal, still
remembering that there she stood a mark for the admiration of gods
and men. How long shall this Juno mood serve to sustain her? Ah! how
long?

"Has he gone?" said Miss Baker, as she looked at her niece.

"Yes, aunt, he has gone."

"When will he return?"

"He will not return, aunt. He will not come any more; it is all over
at last."

Miss Baker stood for a moment trembling, and then threw herself upon
a seat. She had at least had no celestial gift by which she could
compose herself. "Oh, Caroline!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, aunt Mary; it is all over now."

"You mean that you have quarrelled?" said she, remembering to her
comfort, that there was some old proverb about the quarrels of
lovers. Miss Baker had great faith in proverbs.

The reader may find it hard to follow Miss Baker's mind on the
subject of this engagement. Some time since she was giving advice
that it should be broken off, and now she was _au desespoir_ because
that result had been reached. She had one of those minds that are
prone to veering, and which show by the way they turn, not any
volition of their own, but the direction of some external wind, some
external volition. Nor can one be angry with, or despise Miss Baker
for this weathercock aptitude. She was the least selfish of human
beings, the least opinionative, the most good-natured. She had had
her hot fits and her cold fits with regard to Bertram; but her hot
fits and her cold had all been hot or cold with reference to what she
conceived to be her niece's chances of happiness. Latterly, she had
fancied that Caroline did love Bertram too well to give him up; and
circumstances had led her to believe more strongly than ever that
old Mr. Bertram wished the marriage, and that the two together, if
married, would certainly inherit his wealth. So latterly, during the
last month or so, Miss Baker had blown very hot.

"No, there has been no quarrel," said Caroline, with forced
tranquillity of voice and manner. "No such quarrel as you mean. Do
not deceive yourself, dear aunt; it is over now, ov