Last winter, however, Mrs. Colville received a letter from Mrs. Graham which suggested, if it did not impart, consolation. "Mr. Morton was here the other day, and spent the morning. He has a parish at Erie, and there is talk of his coming to Buffalo." "Oh, Heaven grant it!" said Colville, with sudden piety. "Why?" demanded his wife. "Well, I wish she was married." "You have nothing whatever to do with her." It took him some time to realise that this was the fact. "No," he confessed; "but what do you think about it?" "There is no telling. We are such simpletons! If a man will keep on long enough--But if it isn't Mr. Morton, it will be some one else--some _young_ person." Colville rose and went round the breakfast table to her. "I hope so," he said. "_I_ have married a young person, and it would only be fair." This magnanimity was irresistible. THE END.