“Dearest Sophie, do return with Gusty this evening. I have sent a pillion, and you can ride behind him. There are to be grand doings at Grove Cottage this evening. Kitty is beating eggs; and I am stoning raisins—all this in honor of the expected arrival of Lieutenant Augustus H. Wilde, United States Navy. My dear brother Gusty, his ship has arrived at the Navy Yard at Norfolk—he has received his promotion, and writes that he will be with me this evening. Wear your _new_ brown silk dress, Sophie, for I want you to make a conquest of Master Gusty, Senior, so that we can keep him here while he is on shore. And I want _him_ to cut the minister out, _too_, although the whole country says it will be such a ‘marvellous proper’ match—that is, between you and the minister. Come. EMILY.” There was another horse and side-saddle brought by another pupil to carry Sophie home with him that evening, but when school was dismissed, Master Gusty (junior, as we must call him now) marched up to the bringer of the rival nag, and told the “fellow” that Miss Churchill was going home with _him_, and that he had better carry his “beast” back again. During their ride to the Grove, Gusty informed Miss Churchill that he was named after his uncle, Augustus Wilde, that the latter was just made a lieutenant, and that he was going to try to procure a midshipman’s warrant for _him_ when he was a little bigger. They arrived at the Grove at sunset. Lieutenant Wilde was already there, and came out gallantly to lift Sophie from her horse—she had never seen him before, and as he came from the cottage door down the long grape-vine covered walk to the gate where her horse stood, she thought he was strikingly like his sister, the same silky black hair, the same dark grey eyes—he approached, addressed her freely and cheerfully as his sister’s familiar friend, and in lifting her off the pillion their eyes met—their _eyes_ met, their _souls_ met. The soul more or less plainly speaks through the eyes, and I believe that ever the truest, purest, strongest, and most lasting love begins with the first meeting of the eyes, in a sort of mutual recognition. Involuntarily his voice softened to its lowest, sweetest tones in addressing her, and tenderly, most tenderly he arranged her riding habit as he stood her on the ground, and then drawing her arm through his own, he gently led her up the grape walk to the house. Emily received her at the door with a hearty kiss, and telling her that she looked unusually charming, led her into the house. The pastor was within, of course. Emily’s parlor glittered with its clean, sober, drab-colored glory. The evening passed delightfully, between Emily’s music, Sophie’s songs, and the young lieutenant’s sea-stories, anecdotes, and adventures. The pastor alone was silent and moody. Never had Sophie Churchill passed so delightful an evening. With strangers