My answer was not verbally expressed, but its purport seemed to be understood and accepted, for Alice continued:— “I wouldn’t undo a bit of what’s happened—I’m the happiest, proudest woman in the world. But we _have_ been very hasty, for people who have been mere acquaintances. And mother is dreadfully opposed to such affairs—she is of the old style, you know.” “It was all my fault,” said I. “I’ll apologize promptly and handsomely. The time and agony which I didn’t consume in laying siege to your heart, I’ll devote to the task of gaining your mother’s good graces.” The look I received in reply to this remark would have richly repaid me, had my task been to conciliate as many mothers-in-law as Brigham Young possesses. But her smile faded as she said:— “You don’t know what a task you have before you. Mother has a very tender heart, but it’s thoroughly fenced in by proprieties. In her day and set, courtship was a very slow, stately affair, and mother believes it the proper way now; so do I, but I admit possible exceptions, and mother does not. I am afraid she won’t be patient if she knows the whole truth, yet I can’t bear to keep it from her. I’m her only child, you know.” “_Don’t_ keep it from her,” said I, “unless for some reason of your own. Let me tell the whole story, take all the responsibility, and accept the penalties, if there are any. Your mother is right in principle, if there _is_ a certain delightful exception that we know of.” “My only fear is for _you_,” said my darling, nestling closer to me. “She comes of a family that can display most glorious indignation when there’s a good excuse for it, and I can’t bear to think of _you_ being the cause of such an outbreak.” “I’ve faced the ugliest of guns in honor of one form of love, little girl,” I replied, “and I could do even more for the sentiment for which _you’re_ to blame. And for my own sake, I’d rather endure anything than a sense of having deceived any one, especially the mother of such a daughter. Besides, you’re her dearest treasure, and she has a right to know of even the least thing that in any way concerns you.” “And you’re a noble fellow, and——” Whatever other sentiment my companion failed to put into words was impulsively and eloquently communicated by her dear eyes. But oh, what a cowardly heart your dear cheek rested upon an instant later, fair Alice! Not for the first time in my life did I shrink and tremble at the realization of what duty imperatively required—not for the first time did I go through a harder battle than was ever fought with sword and cannon, and a battle with greater possibilities of danger than the field ever offered. I won it, as a man _must_ do in such fights, if he deserves to live; but I could not help feeling considerably sobered on our homeward drive. We neared the house, and I had an insane fancy that instead of driving two horses I was astride of one, with spurs at my heels and a saber at my side.