“My own, own darling girl,” he said over and over again, as he pressed her to his heart, quite regardless of Mrs. Bell, who stood by, sobbing with joy. “My own Susan.” “Aaron, dear Aaron,” she whispered. But she had already recognised the fact that for the present meeting a passive part would become her well, and save her a deal of trouble. She had her lover there quite safe, safe beyond anything that Mr. or Mrs. Beckard might have to say to the contrary. She was quite happy; only that there were symptoms now and again that the whirlwind was about to engulf her yet once more. “Dear Aaron, I am so glad you are come,” said the innocent-minded widow, as she went up stairs with him, to show him his room; and then he embraced her also. “Dear, dear mother,” he said. On the next day there was, as a matter of course, a family conclave. Hetta and Phineas came down, and discussed the whole subject of the coming marriage with Mrs. Bell. Hetta at first was not quite certain;—ought they not to inquire whether the situation was permanent? “I won’t inquire at all,” said Mrs. Bell, with an energy that startled both the daughter and son-in-law. “I would not part them now; no, not if—” and the widow shuddered as she thought of her daughter’s sunken eyes, and pale cheeks. “He is a good lad,” said Phineas, “and I trust she will make him a sober steady wife;” and so the matter was settled. During this time, Susan and Aaron were walking along the Balston road; and they also had settled the matter—quite as satisfactorily. Such was the courtship of Susan Dunn.