Mrs. Wainwright dropped suddenly back into her chair. "Well-of-all-things!" The professor was stroking his daughter's hair and although for a time after Mrs. Wainwright's outbreak there was little said, the old man and the girl seemed in gentle communion, she making him feel her happiness, he making her feel his appreciation. Providentially Mrs. Wainwright had been so stunned by the first blow that she was evidently rendered incapable of speech. " And are you sure you will be happy with him? asked her father gently. " All my life long," she answered. " I am glad! I am glad! " said the father, but even as he spoke a great sadness came to blend with his joy. The hour when he was to give this beautiful and beloved life into the keeping of another had been heralded by the god of the sexes, the ruthless god that devotes itself to the tearing of children from the parental arms and casting them amid the mysteries of an irretrievable wedlock. The thought filled him with solemnity. But in the dewy eyes of the girl there was no question. The world to her was a land of glowing promise. " I am glad," repeated the professor. The girl arose from her knees. " I must go away and-think all about it," she said, smiling. When the door of her room closed upon her, the mother arose in majesty. " Harrison Wainwright," she declaimed, "you are not going to allow this monstrous thing! " The professor was aroused from a reverie by these words. "What monstrous thing ? " he growled. " Why, this between Coleman and Marjory." " Yes," he answered boldly. " Harrison! That man who-" The professor crashed his hand down on the table. "Mary! I will not hear another word of it! " " Well," said Mrs. Wainwright, sullen and ominous, " time will tell! Time will tell!" When Coleman bad turned from the fleeing Peter Tounley again to Marjory, he found her making the preliminary movements of a flight. "What's the matter? " he demanded anxiously. " Oh, it's too dreadful" " Nonsense," lie retorted stoutly. " Only Peter Tounley! He don't count. What of that ? " ' Oh, dear! " She pressed her palm to a burning cheek. She gave him a star-like, beseeching glance. Let me go now-please." " Well," he answered, somewhat affronted, " if you like--" At the door she turned to look at him, and this glance expressed in its elusive way a score of things which she had not yet been able to speak. It explained that she was loth to leave him, that she asked forgiveness for leaving him, that even for a short absence she wished to take his image in her eyes, that he must not bully her, that there was something now in her heart which frightened her, that she loved him, that she was happy---