Sir Charles Bassett stood his ground rather longer, being steeled by the conviction that the quarrel was none of his seeking. Moreover, he was not aware what a good friend this woman had been to him, nor what a good wife she had been to Marsh this seventeen years. His mind, therefore, made a clear leap from Rhoda Somerset, the vixen of Hyde Park and Mayfair, to this preacher, and he could not help smiling; than which a worse frame for receiving unpalatable truths can hardly be conceived. And so the elders were obdurate. But Compton and Ruperta had no armor of old age, egotism, or prejudice to turn the darts of honest eloquence. They listened, as to the voice of an angel; they gazed, as on the face of an angel; and when those silvery accents ceased, they turned toward each other and came toward each other, with the sweet enthusiasm that became their years. “Oh, Cousin Ruperta!” quavered Compton. '“Oh, Cousin Compton!” cried Ruperta, the tears trickling down her lovely cheeks. They could not say any more for ever so long. Ruperta spoke first. She gave a final gulp, and said, “I will go and speak to her, and thank her.” “Oh, Miss Ruperta, we shall be too late for tea,” suggested the maid. “Tea!” said Ruperta. “Our souls are before our tea! I must speak to her, or else my heart will choke me and kill me. I will go--and so will Compton.” “Oh, yes!” said Compton. And they hurried after the preacher. They came up with her flushed and panting; and now it was Compton's turn to be shy--the lady was so tall and stately too. But Ruperta was not much afraid of anything in petticoats. “Oh, madam,” said she, “if you please, may we speak to you?” Mrs. Marsh turned round, and her somewhat aquiline features softened instantly at the two specimens of beauty and innocence that had run after her. “Certainly, my young friends;” and she smiled maternally on them. She had children of her own. “Who do you think we are? We are the two naughty children you preached about so beautifully.” “What! _you_ the babes in the wood?” “Yes, madam. It was a long, long while ago, and we are fifteen now--are we not, Cousin Compton?” “Yes, madam.” “And we are both so unhappy at our parents' quarreling. At least I am.” “And so am I.” “And we came to thank you. Didn't we, Compton?” “Yes, Ruperta.” “And to ask your advice. How are we to make our parents be friends? Old people will not be advised by young ones. They look down on us so; it is dreadful.” “My dear young lady,” said Mrs. Marsh, “I will try and answer you: but let me sit down a minute; for, after preaching, I am apt to feel a little exhausted. Now, sit beside me, and give me each a hand, if you please.