“Cowardly fool!” muttered Mrs. Livingstone, as the door closed upon him. “If I pretended to be a man, I’d be one;” then turning to Malcolm, she said, “Is there anything further you wish to say?” “Nothing,” he replied. “I have honorably asked you for your daughter. You have refused her, and must abide the consequence.” “And pray what may that be?” she asked, and he answered: “She will soon be of an age to act for herself, and though I would far rather take her with your consent, I shall not then hesitate to take her without, if you still persist in opposing her.” “There is the door,” said Mrs. Livingstone rising. “I see it, madam,” answered Malcolm, without deigning to move. “Oblige me by passing out,” continued Mrs. Livingstone. “Insolent creature, to stand here threatening to elope with my daughter, who has been destined for another since her infancy.” “But she shall never become the bride of that old man,” answered Malcolm. “I know your schemes. I’ve seen them all along, and I will frustrate them, too.” “You cannot,” fiercely answered Mrs. Livingstone. “It shall be ere another year comes round, and when you hear that it is so, know that you hastened it forward;” and the indignant lady, finding that her opponent was not inclined to move, left the room herself, going in quest of Anna, whom she determined to watch for fear of what might happen. But Anna was nowhere to be found, and in a paroxysm of rage she alarmed the household, instituting a strict search, which resulted in the discovery of Anna beneath the same sycamore where Malcolm had first breathed his vows, and whither she had repaired to await the decision of her parents. “I expected as much,” said she, when told of the result, “but it matters not. I am yours, and I’ll never marry another.” The approach of the servants prevented any further conversation, and with a hurried adieu they parted. A few days afterward, as Mrs. Livingstone, sat in her large easy-chair before the glowing grate, Captain Atherton was announced, and shown at once into her room. To do Mrs. Livingstone justice, we must say that she had long debated the propriety of giving Anna, in all the freshness of her girlhood, to a man old as her father, but any hesitancy she had heretofore felt, had now vanished. The crisis had come, and when the captain, as he had two or three times before done, broached the subject, urging her to a decision, she replied that she was willing, provided Anna’s consent could be gained. “Pho! that’s easy enough,” said the captain, complacently rubbing together his fat hands and smoothing his colored whiskers—“Bring her in here, and I’ll coax her in five minutes.” Anna was sitting with her grandmother and ’Lena, when word came that her mother wished to see her, the servant adding, with a titter, that “Mas’r Atherton thar too.”