els in a
breaking mood, let him break, break right and left, and there's no
great harm done; a few dollars would put them all back. This is a
consideration by no means small or unimportant to some men, who seem
inspired to break everything they touch, from a woman's heart to the
most venerated of old brass icons.

This little room did everything it could to please a man, and put
nothing in his way; although it made him feel, with its presiding
genius in it, every kind of way, except uncomfortable.

There's a rose upon the mantle, stuck by careless hand in a vase of
antique design--one rose, no more; for one such faultless rose as this
fills up all the spirit's longing in a rose. A thousand roses, perfect
of their kind, could do no more. Here we have _sub rosa_ a profound
philosophical maxim showing its colors--as brief as profound, i.e.,
enough is enough, whether it be enough rose or enough stewed pigeon
with green peas.

On a spider-legged table in this diminutive lady's bower, there sat a
dish of ferns; some moss was growing in a basket; some colored strands
of wool lay across a piece of canvas; a carved paper-cutter peeped out
from the leaves of an unread book, left lying on an ottoman by some
person who had been seated in an easy-chair with silken cushions, soft
to rest upon in weariness, in a cozy corner; and on a sofa of crimson
plush reposed, in restful quiet, a guitar with blue ribbon attached.
This guitar told its own tale; Mell _had_ learned something useful,
after all, at that famous boarding-school; for to the strumming of
this guitar she could sing you, with inimitable taste and in a
bird-like voice, an English madrigal, or a French _chansonnette_, or
one of those plaintive love ditties which finds its way into the
listener's heart through any language.

"Now, mother," said Rube, looking about him with pardonable pride,
"isn't this pleasant? Have we, amid all our grandeur, any such snug
den as this?"

"Well, no, Rube! It _is_ charming! _Multum in parvo_, one may say. But
whom have we here?"

It was Mell, halting for one awe-struck instant in the doorway,
attired in a fresh muslin dress, with ribbons to match her eyes, and
cheeks dyed a red carnation at the formidable prospect of meeting,
face to face, the august mistress of the Bigge House. Rube pressed
forward to meet her, and took her fluttering hand in his own, and led
her forward.

"Your new daughter, mother, and this, Mellville, is our good m