Although the days were at their longest, it was quite dark before Mrs. Williams reached her own door. She entered it--after a hurried 'good evening' to Hiram--flushed, excited, and with feelings generally disturbed. Contrary to her resolution, in opposition to her judgment, and, I may say, against her will, she listened to the old familiar accents breathed in more impassioned tones than ever before, while relieved by a gloss of sentimental sadness. What had she been doing, and where had the hours fled? To what was she listening, whose arm did she hold, and whose hand ventured to enclose hers? [It was 'only in sisterly friendship.' That was Hiram's observation as he took it.] Before she was aware of it, twilight was disappearing in the darkness. She started as if recovering herself, and commenced to walk hurriedly toward home. Hiram by no means relished the pace, but he was forced to keep up, and, as I have observed, with an abrupt 'good evening' he was summarily dismissed. But he had enjoyed himself exceedingly, and he walked slowly toward his house, recalling every little word which, as he believed, disclosed the true state of Mary Williams's affections. Scoundrel that he was, he gave not a thought to what might be the consequence if he persevered in his wicked attempt to interest her. In fact, he made up his mind that it would make the time pass less heavily while he was detained in the neighborhood. Do not suppose the calculating wretch intended to push the 'flirtation' beyond what he called brotherly and sisterly conduct. Not he. There might arise some charge of criminality or wrong, which would endanger his position, or weaken his claims to the 'kingdom.' Hiram reached home and found his mother much worse. By signs and every other manifestation in her power, she had intimated her wish to see him. Now she was quite speechless. When Mrs. Williams entered her house, the 'tea table' was still spread, and her husband wondering what had become of her. Her little girl shouted in a joyful tone as she came in, 'Here is mamma,' and Mr. Williams's countenance was instantly relieved from an expression of suspense. 'Why, Mary, where have you been?' For an instant Mrs. Williams was on the point of fabricating an answer. But her better angel was on guard just then. The evil spell was dissolved, while she replied, with one of her pleasant laughs: 'You could never guess. I met Hiram Meeker on my way to the dressmaker's. You know he is here attending on his mother. Well, we undertook to stroll over some of our old walks, and, before I knew it, talking about old times and old scenes, it was dark. More fool I for wasting my time and keeping tea waiting.' 'Why did he not come in?' 'To tell you the truth, I never asked him. I was so frightened when I saw how late it was, I hurried away home, and left him at the door to do the same.'