“Why should I kiss the lover of Miss Marston? I confess I had rather not. But do not think me angry, or that I have any desire to reproach you. I know you could not resist a powerful attraction like that, and from my very soul, Dan, I wish I were dead and you her husband;” and controlling her emotion, she smiled and gave him her hand cordially. He was tempted greatly to draw her towards him and kiss her, whether she desired it or not; but something in her face he had never seen there before—something of firmness and womanly dignity that awed him—prevented him, and, pressing her hand hurriedly, he left the house. When he was gone, of course Susie gave way utterly to her sorrow. She had thought lately, that in her reading and study, in her work and in present and prospective cares, she had finally escaped most of her suffering; but this evening had revealed more clinging to straws, more feeding the hungry heart upon dry husks, to use the doctor’s words. The process of robbing the heart of its illusions is long and tedious. Let us have patience with Susie. There is something rare and fine in her nature that begins to show itself through all her hard conditions; and despite the low surroundings of her childhood, she has grown already above that, like the sacred lotus above the mud; and as the mud nourishes and develops the beautiful lily under the sunbeam, so the sad memories of Susie’s early life, aided by the vivifying influence of the kindly human sympathy she has won, will nourish and develop a grace and beauty of soul that will fit her for the work she has to do. Passively, Susie submitted to the judgment of Clara and Mrs. Buzzell, and a day or two later the marriage was to take place, in a distant town at the terminus of Dan’s railroad route, where he had “six hours off,” he said, and that was “time enough to do considerable damage.” Clara was to accompany her friend, and to see her safely home again. She arrived at Mrs. Buzzell’s some time before the train left, but found Susie ready, even to her hat and gloves, but looking, as she declared, a picture of gloom. She was dressed entirely in black. “Well, then,” said Susie, trying to smile, “my looks do not belie my feelings. I feel a presentiment that something bad is going to happen.” “I begin to think,” remarked Mrs. Buzzell, as she insisted upon Susie’s swallowing a glass of her currant wine, “that we have done wrong to urge the poor child to this step. I’m afraid no good will come of it.” “Come! let us be off at once,” said Clara, gayly. “I don’t like this aspect of indecision in Mrs. Buzzell. It means anything but business.”