But then comes a distant shout from the lobby into which some of the children have strayed in their play, of “Uncle James! Uncle James!” and here he is. Older, of course, yet looking much as he looked in the old times; though we must whisper that the bridegroom whom we saw some fourteen or fifteen years ago at the commencement of this story, has now, at its conclusion, become a portly gentleman; in good sooth, most unsentimentally _stout_, and with a look of comfort and competence about him, which speaks in tones most audibly, of worldly success and prosperity. A good man, too, and a pleasant, he is, with the milk of human kindness abounding in his heart; as such Mr. James Melville is universally considered and honoured, though with scarcely so large a heart as his brother the minister, nor so well mated. It is true, Mrs. James, since she found out who her friend of ten years ago was; and Mary’s reasons for rejecting what seemed so good a match, and the failure, the utter failure of her party on that new year’s night in consequence; has grown wonderfully careful, and begins to discover that there are pleasanter things in life, than the collecting together a dozen or two of people to be entertained or wearied according to their respective inclinations, and her fireside has grown a much more cheerful one always, though for a few nights in the year less brilliant than heretofore; and her husband’s quotations of “Christian” have grown less disagreeable to her ears, though still she sometimes resents the superiority which everybody accords to her. James is always welcomed in his brother Halbert’s house, and never more warmly than on New Year’s night; for Elizabeth does not accompany him on these annual occasions; and even that loving circle feel relieved by her absence at such a time, for the conversation generally runs upon certain remembrances which she would not like to hear; and which none of them would like to mention in her presence. So James sits down and joins them for awhile in their recalling of the past; and little Halbert Melville gazes at his father in open-mouthed astonishment, as he hears him speak of being the cause of unhappiness and sorrow to Aunt Christian and Aunt Mary, and to Uncles James and Robert, and his grave old grandfather who died two years ago. His father--and Halbert would have defied anybody but that father’s self. Yes! even Aunt Christian, if she had said such words as these--his father cause unhappiness and sorrow to anybody!--his father, whom old Ailie, still a hale and vigorous old woman, and chief of Christian’s household, and prima donna in Mary Melville’s nursery, had told him was always as kind and good to everybody all through his life as he was now! Halbert could not believe it possible. And little Mary Hamilton’s eyes waxed larger and larger, in amazement, as Aunt Christian spoke of her mother--her mother whom she had never seen without a smile