They could no more hide their mutual tenderness than they could help breathing. Their glances turned so often to each other, their smiles were so tender, their voices had so soft a cadence when they called each other's names, that every one could guess the passion of their hearts. Ellsworth and the surrounding neighborhood had been very gay the past few weeks. Dances and picnics, moonlight rides and tea parties, all varied the programme, and contributed to the pleasure of Mrs. Ellsworth's beautiful nieces. Dainty, even in her simple gowns and hats, was the beauty of every gathering, and might have been the belle of everything had she so chosen; but she was shy and cold with all other men, in her loyalty to her noble lover. There came a day, toward the second week in July, when Mrs. Ellsworth asked her step-son for a private interview in her boudoir. "I am obliged to speak to you on a very important subject," she said, anxiously. He bowed inquiringly. "Can you not guess the subject to which I refer?" she continued. "Have you forgotten the peculiar provisions of your father's will, by which you will be disinherited in my favor unless you marry on or before your twenty-sixth birthday?" "I have not forgotten," he replied, calmly. "Then perhaps you have forgotten that the first day of August will be your birthday?" "I have not forgotten that, either," he replied, coolly. The handsome old lady regarded him with some irritation, and snapped out: "Then perhaps you will condescend to explain the reason for your strange shilly-shallying? Your birthday scarcely three weeks off, and your inheritance dependent on your marriage, yet not even engaged!" "Dear madame, there is plenty of time yet," he replied, with provoking coolness. "You expect, then, to be married on your birthday?" "Certainly, madame. You can not suppose that I am going to remain single, and resign my birthright to you or any one?"--sarcastically. "I scarcely thought you such a fool," she said, tartly; adding: "But I consider your behavior very strange. You are not yet engaged that I know of, and the bride ought to have more than three weeks to prepare her trousseau." "That is all nonsense about an elaborate trousseau. She will need only a wedding and traveling-gown, and the other finery can be bought while we are on our wedding-tour in Paris," he returned, airily. She exclaimed, suspiciously: "Perhaps you are engaged already to some grand foreign lady, and intend to return to Europe in time to marry her on your birthday?" "You are mistaken, madame. There is no girl in the world for me but one of our lovely Americans. That is why I came home from my wanderings. I wanted to choose one of my own beautiful country women to be my bride." "I applaud your taste," she smiled. "I have traveled over the whole world, but I found no women as charming as the Americans; and I am glad you will choose one to reign at Ellsworth. But have you made your choice?"