“It is pouring hard,” remarked Mrs. Button, solicitously. “And that stage is wretchedly uncomfortable in the best weather. I wish you could be persuaded to stay with us until it clears off, Mr. Chilton, and”--making a bold push--“I am sure my nephew concurs in my desire.” “Mr. Chilton should require no verbal assurance of my hospitable feelings toward him and my other guests,” said Mr. Aylett, frigidly--smooth as ice-cream. “If I forbear to press him to prolong his stay, it is in reflection of the golden law laid down for the direction of hosts--'Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.'” “You are both very kind, but I must go,” Frederic replied, concisely and civilly, following Mabel into the parlor, whither the other visitors were fabled to have repaired. As he had guessed, his betrothed was the only person there; the quartette having dispersed with kindly tact, for which he gave them due credit. “Don't think hardly of me, dear,” he began, seating himself beside her on the sofa. “Allow me to offer you a few of the finest cigars I have enjoyed for many years,” said Mr. Aylett, entering in season to check Frederic's movement to encircle Mabel's drooping form with his arm. “You smoke, I believe? You may have an opportunity of indulging in this solace in an empty stage. At least, there is little probability that you will be denied the luxury by the presence of lady passengers. I procured those in Havana, last winter. In case you should like them well enough to order some for yourself, I will give you the address of the merchant from whom I purchased them.”