Alice started to her feet, and stood gazing vacantly at him, uncertain what to do. “Wont you speak to Harry Wilson?” shouted Old John, at the top of his voice, and giving a hysterical kind of laugh. Then the truth flashed upon her. With a cry of joy she rushed into his arms, and nestling her head in his bosom, wept like a child—but they were tears of joy. Her overstrained feelings found a happy relief. The dark cloud of sorrow passed away and the sun shone in all its glory. Old John capered round the room like a madman, and declared he had never seen any thing half so pleasant in all his life. “But it was very cruel of you, dear papa,” said Alice, kissing him tenderly, after the first effusions of joy were over. “I know it was, Ally, dear,” exclaimed Old John, willing to be blamed for any thing now. “I know it was. But you are such a willful little thing that I was afraid you wouldn’t like him, and I had set my heart upon it. I have been tempted more than twenty times to confess the whole and ask your forgiveness, when I saw you look so miserable. Yes, Ally, I came very near spoiling the whole this morning at breakfast. But never mind, it’s all right now; confess, isn’t it?” Yes, indeed, it was all right! And Alice, in her silent, eloquent way, soon convinced him that she thought so. Again the door opened, and Harry Wilson senior entered. He knew the whole affair, and had only waited on the outside until the first scene should be over. Cordial was the greeting between the old schoolmates. Smiles, congratulations, and merry words passed freely; every eye glistened with joy, and all went merry as a marriage bell. “Shall I enter that note at five or six per cents.?” asked some one at the side-door. There stood David Deans, with a pen behind his ear and another in his hand—his usual way of ornamenting himself—and looking as blank and cool as if nothing had happened. “Don’t enter it with any per cent., you old miser!” said Old John, patting him familiarly on the back. “We don’t charge interest this year.” David walked off with a broad grin operating powerfully upon his countenance. He understood the trick, did David. There was a sweet dream under each pillow that night; and the birth-day on which Alice thought to be miserable, was the happiest of her life. “Bless me, Brother Bill!” exclaimed Uncle Tom, “if you aint smoking nothing but dust and ashes.” “I declare, I believe you are right,” answered my father, somewhat confused, and making a careful examination of his pipe. “Good-nights!” were passed, and we all went to bed with happy hearts. * * * * * [Illustration: Painted by Brockdon Engraved by F. Humphreys NATURE’S TRIUMPH. Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine] * * * * * EDITOR’S TABLE. NATURE’S TRIUMPH. [SEE ENGRAVING.]