the Earthquake at Lisbon.

On the tenth the work was proceeding bravely. Toward noon Owen and I
strolled to the door to enjoy the fine autumn sunshine. We were sitting
lazily on our favorite bench in front of the tower when we were startled
by a shout from above us. Looking up directly, we saw Morgan half in
and half out of his narrow window In the seventh story, gesticulating
violently with the stem of his long meerschaum pipe in the direction of
the road below us.

We gazed eagerly in the quarter thus indicated, but our low position
prevented us for some time from seeing anything. At last we both
discerned an old yellow post-chaise distinctly and indisputably
approaching us.

Owen and I looked at one another in panic-stricken silence. It was
coming to us--and what did it contain? Do pianos travel in chaises?
Are boxes of novels conveyed to their destination by a postilion?
We expected the piano and expected the novels, but nothing
else--unquestionably nothing else.

The chaise took the turn in the road, passed through the gateless gap
in our rough inclosure-wall of loose stone, and rapidly approached us.
A bonnet appeared at the window and a hand gayly waved a white
handkerchief.

Powers of caprice, confusion, and dismay! It was Jessie Yelverton
herself--arriving, without a word of warning, exactly ten days before
her time.

CHAPTER III. OUR QUEEN OF' HEARTS.

THE chaise stopped in front of us, and before we had recovered from our
bewilderment the gardener had opened the door and let down the steps.

A bright, laughing face, prettily framed round by a black veil passed
over the head and tied under the chin--a traveling-dress of a nankeen
color, studded with blue buttons and trimmed with white braid--a light
brown cloak over it--little neatly-gloved hands, which seized in an
instant on one of mine and on one of Owen's--two dark blue eyes, which
seemed to look us both through and through in a moment--a clear,
full, merrily confident voice--a look and manner gayly and gracefully
self-possessed--such were the characteristics of our fair guest which
first struck me at the moment when she left the postchaise and possessed
herself of my hand.

"Don't begin by scolding me," she said, before I could utter a word of
welcome. "There will be time enough for that in the course of the next
six weeks. I beg pardon, with all possible humility, for the offense of
coming ten days before my time. Don't ask me to account