is well off, and growing richer every day."

"Worth taking into the account, I suppose, as one of the reasons in
favor of the choice," said my wife. "But I hardly think Wallingford is
the man to let that consideration have much influence."

There was no mistake about the matter of furnishing Ivy Cottage, as the
place was called. I saw carpets going in on the very next day. All the
shrubbery had been trimmed, the grounds cleared up and put in order, and
many choice flowers planted in borders already rich in floral treasures.

Curiosity now began to flutter its wings, lift up its head, and look
around sharply. Many arrows had taken their flight towards the heart of
our young bachelor lawyer, but, until now, there had been no evidence
of a wound. What fair maiden had conquered at last? I met him not long
after, walking in the street with Florence Williams. She looked smiling
and happy; and his face was brighter than I had ever seen it. This
confirmed to me the rumor.

Mrs. Wallingford was not to be approached on the subject. If she knew
of an intended marriage, she feigned ignorance; and affected not to
understand the hints, questions, and surmises of curious neighbors.

A week or two later, and I missed Wallingford from his office. The lad
in attendance said that he was away from the town, but would return in a
few days.

"I have a surprise for you," said my wife on that very afternoon. She
had a letter in her hand just received by post. Her whole face was
radiant with pleasure. Drawing a card from the envelope, she held it
before my eyes. I read the names of _Henry Wallingford_ and _Blanche
Montgomery_, and the words, "At home Wednesday evening, June 15th. Ivy
Cottage."

"Bravo!" I exclaimed, as soon as a momentary bewilderment passed,
showing more than my wonted enthusiasm. "The best match since Hymen
linked our fates together, Constance."

"May it prove as happy a one!" my wife answered, with a glance of
tenderness.

"It will, Constance--it will. That is a marriage after my own heart; one
that I have, now and then, dimly foreshadowed in imagination, but never
thought to see."

"It is over five years since we saw Blanche," remarked Constance. "I
wonder how she looks! If life's sunshine and rain have produced a rich
harvest in her soul, or only abraded the surface, and marred the
sweet beauty that captivated us of old! I wonder how she has borne the
shadowing of earthly prospects--the change from luxurious s