“Well, let Hope take off her earrings first,” suggested Mrs. Dodd. “No, no, come here directly, earrings and all.” “No, thank you; or I shall have _them_ wounding you next.” Mrs. Hope quietly removed her earrings, and the tender pair passed the rest of the night in one another's arms. The young girl's tears were dried; and hope revived, and life bloomed again: only, henceforth her longing eyes looked out to sea for her father, homeward bound. Next day, as they were seated together in the drawing-room, Julia came from the window with a rush, and kneeled at Mrs. Dodd's knees, with bright imploring face upturned. “He is there; and--I am to speak to him? Is that it?” “Dear, dear, dear mamma!” was the somewhat oblique reply. “Well, then, bring me my things.” She was ten minutes putting them on: Julia tried to expedite her and retarded her. She had her pace, and could not go beyond it. Now by this time Alfred Hardie was thoroughly miserable. Unable to move his father, shunned by Julia, sickened by what he had heard, and indeed seen, of her gaiety and indifference to their separation, stung by jealousy and fretted by impatience, he was drinking nearly all the bitters of that sweet passion, Love. But as you are aware, he ascribed Julia's inconstancy, lightness, and cruelty all to Mrs. Dodd. He hated her cordially, and dreaded her into the bargain; he played the sentinel about her door all the more because she had asked him not to do it “Always do what your enemy particularly objects to,” said he, applying to his own case the wisdom of a Greek philosopher, one of his teachers. So, when the gate suddenly opened, and instead of Julia, this very Mrs. Dodd walked towards him, his feelings were anything but enviable. He wished himself away, heartily, but was too proud to retreat. He stood his ground. She came up to him; a charming smile broke out over her features. “Ah! Mr. Hardie,” said she, “if you have nothing better to do, will you give me a minute?” He assented with surprise and an ill grace. “May I take your arm?” He offered it with a worse. She laid her hand lightly on it, and it shuddered at her touch. He felt like walking with a velvet tigress. By some instinct she divined his sentiment, and found her task more difficult than she had thought; she took some steps in silence. At last, as he was no dissembler, he burst out passionately, “Why are you my enemy?” “I am not your enemy,” said she quietly. “Not openly, but all the more dangerous. You keep us apart, you bid her be gay and forget me; you are a cruel, hard-hearted lady.” “No, I am not, sir,” said Mrs. Dodd simply. “Oh! I believe you are good and kind to all the rest of the world; but you know you have a heart of iron for me.”