Mr. Brown put the matter at rest, as far as he was concerned, for one day, as she returned from a walk, he accosted her on the veranda, and with a series of the most violent grimaces and gesticulations, his eyes flashing, his face working in every possible direction, he told her that he was _desole_: his life depended upon her. He was so odd and absurd in his avowal that she burst out laughing: then, as she beheld an indignant, inquiring expression on his honest red countenance, she grew frightened, sank on a seat and wept hysterically. This encouraged him: he sat down beside her and exclaimed, "Dear mees"--and he peered at her blandly--"your life is empty: so is mine. Let it be for me--oh, so beautiful!"--and he spread out his little fat hands with rapture--"to comfort and console one heavenly existence, _ensemble."_ He placed a hand on each stout knee and gazed benignly down upon her. She hung her head as sheepishly as if she returned the little foreigner's affection--afraid of wounding him, she was speechless--when at this unlucky moment Colonel Pinckney, coming suddenly round the house, walked up the steps. She saw him glance at her--Mr. Brown's back was toward him--and a smile he evidently couldn't restrain stole over his face. "Oh, Mr. Brown, I'm so sorry!" she found courage at length to say. "You are very kind--you've always been kind to me from the moment I entered the house--but indeed you must never speak on this subject again." She shook hands with him in her embarrassment, apparently as a proof of friendship, then ran into the house. "Virginia, what do you think has happened to me?" cried Colonel Pinckney, bursting into his sister-in-law's room, which he seldom invaded. "Yesterday, as I came up the steps, I surprised Mr. Brown, who was offering himself--bad English, poverty and all--to Miss Featherstone. This minute--by George!--I stumbled into the dining-room, and there is Doctor Harris going through the same performance." "Sit down and tell me all about it," exclaimed Mrs. Pinckney, her curiosity overcoming her pique. "Each time," continued Colonel Pinckney, "the lover's back was turned toward me, while I had a most distinct view of Miss Featherstone, who was blushing, hanging her head and looking as distressed as possible, poor little soul!" "Why! won't she accept the doctor?" said Mrs. Pinckney with animation. "It didn't look like it. I couldn't hear what he said, but his back had a hopeless expression. Did you know that she came from one of the best families in Philadelphia, that most aristocratic of cities, and that they were very wealthy? Her only brother was killed in the war, and she is the sole unfortunate survivor." "She might do many a worse thing than marry Doctor Harris: he is well educated and a gentleman."