“Getting upon my impertinence, it would be, mother,” said Gusty, seriously, “only—well!—yes, I am sure, mother, I can leave it all to you—must do it, in fact—for until my marriage, I have no right to object, and after my marriage, there is no place where I would leave Rosalia but here with you; and if you will not receive any compensation, it cannot be helped for the present.” “You must appreciate Mr. Buncombe, Gusty!” “Oh! I _do_, mother, I _do_! I think he is an admirable—Crichton, or Christian—which is it, mother?—I do, indeed—I really do—your appreciation and affection endears him, mother! But now, mother, indeed it is almost four o’clock, and there is no certainty about these evening boats—they pass any time between five and ten—come, mother, tell Kitty to make a nice little supper, and not to forget the rice cakes, with honey sauce, that Rose likes, and then, mother, get your shawl and muff, and _do_ come along with me to the cliff, to watch for the boat—come, mother, oh, _do_ come!” Emily arose with a smile and a sigh. “Mothers with marriageable daughters make heavy complaints—the egotists!—but a mother with a marriageable son—a great loblolly boy, in love, who is always melting over her!—has not _she_ a trial? As for those rice cakes, Mr. Gusty, they are very well once in a long time, but we have had them prepared every week for your Rosalia, who has not appeared to partake of them; and we have had to eat them all up ourselves, to keep them from being wasted, and we are all getting the dyspepsia, and I am losing my complexion from indigestion, and whatever you may think, I assure you, Master Gusty, that I value the beauty of my complexion for the sake of my good man, quite as much, and perhaps more than your Rosalia values hers, for the sake of you—and as for this trip to the beach, Master Gusty, every afternoon, through the cold, and over the snow, it does not help to counteract the ill effects of the cakes quite as much as I could wish, because, Master Gusty, I have to stand upon the wet beach, in the current of wind too long, Master Gusty—and so, Master Gusty, you will please to be a trifle more reasonable in your love, if love and reason ever can coalesce in you—but, however, Master Gusty, I will once more take cakes and cold for your sake,” and going out into the kitchen, she gave the necessary orders, and returned enveloped in a large hood, shawl, and muff. Gusty buttoned up his great coat, and they set out. The walk from Grove Cottage to the promontory was rather long. The afternoon was clear, bright, and cold, and the snow, slightly crusted, crackled under their feet as they pursued their way towards the cliff. They reached its summit, and stood upon the extreme point of the peak. Emily took out her watch to note the time, gaily grumbling at its waste, while her son adjusted his pocket-telescope, and took sight up the river.