y
shall hint that there is something peculiar; and which is shocked and
retreats backwards into its boots when anything like a consequence
forces itself on the apprehension. Such men have their glory in their
own estimation. We remember how Falstaff flouted the pride of his
companion whose victory in the fields of love had been but little
glorious. But there are victories going now-a-days so infinitely less
glorious, that Falstaff's page was a Lothario, a very Don Juan, in
comparison with the heroes whose praises are too often sung by their
own lips. There is this recompense,--that their defeats are always
sung by lips louder than their own. Mr. Gibson, when he found that he
was to escape apparently unscathed,--that people standing respectably
before the world absolutely dared to whisper words to him of
congratulation on this third attempt at marriage within little more
than a year, took pride to himself, and bethought himself that he
was a gay deceiver. He believed that he had selected his wife,--and
that he had done so in circumstances of peculiar difficulty! Poor Mr.
Gibson,--we hardly know whether most to pity him, or the unfortunate,
poor woman who ultimately became Mrs. Gibson.

"And so Bella French is to be the fortunate woman after all," said
Miss Stanbury to her niece.

"It does seem to me to be so odd," said Dorothy. "I wonder how he
looked when he proposed it."

"Like a fool,--as he always does."

Dorothy refrained from remarking that Miss Stanbury had not always
thought that Mr. Gibson looked like a fool, but the idea occurred to
her mind. "I hope they will be happy at last," she said.

"Pshaw! Such people can't be happy, and can't be unhappy. I don't
suppose it much matters which he marries, or whether he marries them
both, or neither. They are to be married by banns, they say,--at
Heavitree."

"I don't see anything bad in that."

"Only Camilla might step out and forbid them," said Aunt Stanbury. "I
almost wish she would."

"She has gone away, aunt,--to an uncle who lives at Gloucester."

"It was well to get her out of the way, no doubt. They'll be married
before you now, Dolly."

"That won't break my heart, aunt."

"I don't suppose there'll be much of a wedding. They haven't anybody
belonging to them, except that uncle at Gloucester." Then there was a
pause. "I think it is a nice thing for friends to collect together at
a wedding," continued Aunt Stanbury.

"I think it is," said Dorothy, i