“Yes! you were wrong, Carry! And I hope it will be a lesson to you! But that makes no difference in _his_ feelings, not a whit! He suffers as much as you do! Why, when I have a difficulty with my poor little pet, Georgia, if she is ever so wrong, and I ever so right, I am nevertheless the most miserable man alive!” “Ah, father, but there is a great difference—I am not Archer’s pet, but was to be his consort. We—Archer and myself, are nearly equal in station, ay, education, disposition, and so are more responsible for our conduct towards each other!” sighed Carolyn, dropping her head dejectedly upon his bosom. “Oh, well! now if you are so full of doubts and fears! it is but ten o’clock! I will mount my horse, and ride up to Hardbargain, and knock the young gentleman up—I doubt if he is asleep!—and bring him back here, to-night!” “Not for the world! Not for ten thousand worlds!” exclaimed the proud girl, vehemently. “Ah, then I don’t know what to do with you—go to bed, and try to sleep, and if you can’t do that, ring for the housekeeper, and make her give you some of her nostrums, to put you to sleep! And go into a state of non-existence, that shall obliterate the time between this and to-morrow morning. And to-morrow, I’ll warrant Archer will be here to breakfast with us, and to beg _your_ pardon for the sins that _you_ committed! for that’s the end of all lovers’ quarrels! No matter who’s right and who’s wrong—who’s sinned against, and who’s sinning, the gentleman has to do the penance! There! kiss me, and be off with you!—and hark ye, Carolyn! don’t forget to kneel down and pray Heaven to give you the grace of a meeker temper!” Carolyn Clifton went to her room and retired to bed, to heat her pillow with her feverish head, to wet it with her hot tears—to sigh, and groan, and toss, and sob all night. This bitter, bitter quarrel, was the first trouble the girl had ever had in all her favored life. And she was impatient with it, indignant at it. She was angry with herself for her injustice and indelicacy; angry with Clifton for not forcing upon her the explanation she would not consent to receive, but which, had she been forced to hear, would have arrested the quarrel, and saved this cruel suffering; angry at the tedious night, that lingered so long, keeping her in agonizing suspense; angry at the morning, that delayed its coming, and bringing her the peace and joy of a reconciliation. And so she tossed, and groaned, and suffered, like one in high fever, while the long, long night was slowly, slowly passing away. * * * * *