“Do you think I have my father’s ways?” Carl asked, with an air of delight. “How glad I am! No one else ever told me so, and I was afraid I might be all Arnold. My mother is, of course, an angelic lady; but some of her family have had traits which--really--well, I should a little rather not inherit. And so you think me like my father? Thank you!” “The Arnolds and the Clintons, sir, are families from whom you may be proud to inherit anything!” the old lady cried, beating the table with her fan. “They were among the _élite_ of Boston and New York when this country was a British province. We had colonial governors and judges, sir, when your father’s people were painting signs and door-steps. It is rather late in the day, young man, for you to have to be told what my descent is!” She stopped, choking with anger. The young man seemed to be much interested in this recital. “Indeed!” he said, “this is very delightful to know, and it makes such a difference! Though I had always understood that your descent had been very--precipitous!” Miss Clinton glared at him, unable to utter a word, and seemed only 20 just able to restrain herself from throwing her snuff-box at him. He rose wearily, and went out of the room, having half a mind to run away altogether. But ah! who met him at the door, bringing sunshine and peace in her fair face, holding out two dear little hands, and scattering with a word all his annoyance? “Dear Carl,” Edith said, “are you really glad to see me--really glad?” “How could you imagine such a thing?” he replied. “Then I will go back to Seaton again. Good-by!” She took a step toward the street-door, only a step, both her hands being strongly held. “You forget, then, silvern speech and golden silence,” the young man said. “No,” she replied. “But solid silver is better than airy gold. If people say kind things to you, then you are sure, and have something to remember; but looks fade, and you can think that you mistake, or mistook. Oh! I like silence, Carl, but it must be a silence that follows after speech. That is the sole golden silence.” “I am glad to see your face and hear your voice once more, Edith,” he said seriously. “I have many a time longed for both.” “Dear Carl!” she exclaimed. “But what is that I hear? Is it a parrot?” Carl laughed. “Hush! It is Miss Clinton. She is calling out to know who has come. We will go in and see her.” Miss Clinton had one pleasant expression, and that was a smile, when she was so delighted by something out of herself as to forget herself. This smile brightened her face as she watched the young couple approach her, hand in hand. She leaned back in her chair, and contemplated Edith, without thinking of returning her greeting. “I’m sure that is a golden silence,” Carl said, laughing. “But what do you think of her, aunt? She likes to have people speak first, and look afterward.”