ape from your wicked tricks? and will you make your only son
your victim?" Helen too laughed, she blushed, she fluttered, and was
agitated. She was as happy as she could be--a good tender, matchmaking
woman, the dearest project of whose heart was about to be accomplished.

So, after exchanging some knowing looks and hasty words, Helen left
Arthur; and this young hero, rising from his bed, proceeded to decorate
his beautiful person, and shave his ambrosial chin; and in half an hour
he issued out from his apartment into the garden in quest of Laura. His
reflections as he made his toilette were rather dismal. "I am going to
tie myself for life," he thought, "to please my mother. Laura is the
best of women, and--and she has given me her money. I wish to Heaven I
had not received it; I wish I had not this duty to perform just yet. But
as both the women have set their hearts on the match, why I suppose I
must satisfy them--and now for it. A man may do worse than make happy
two of the best creatures in the world." So Pen, now he was actually
come to the point, felt very grave, and by no means elated, and, indeed,
thought it was a great sacrifice he was going to perform.

It was Miss Laura's custom, upon her garden excursions, to wear a sort
of uniform, which, though homely, was thought by many people to be not
unbecoming. She had a large straw hat, with a streamer of broad ribbon,
which was useless probably, but the hat sufficiently protected the
owner's pretty face from the sun. Over her accustomed gown she wore a
blouse or pinafore, which, being fastened round her little waist by a
smart belt, looked extremely well, and her bands were guaranteed from
the thorns of her favourite rose-bushes by a pair of gauntlets, which
gave this young lady a military and resolute air.

Somehow she had the very same smile with which she had laughed at him on
the night previous, and the recollection of his disaster again offended
Pen. But Laura, though she saw him coming down the walk looking so
gloomy and full of care, accorded to him a smile of the most perfect
and provoking good-humour, and went to meet him, holding one of the
gauntlets to him, so that he might shake it if he liked--and Mr. Pen
condescended to do so. His face, however, did not lose its tragic
expression in consequence of this favour, and he continued to regard her
with a dismal and solemn air.

"Excuse my glove," said Laura, with a laugh, pressing Pen's hand kindly
with