And in the course of the second day, when the news of her arrival began to be rumored about, the companions of her childhood, now grown up to be young men and women, flocked in to see her. And it was from their sly hints and innuendos that Elsie was taught that it was expected of her father to give a ball, and that, indeed, a great many people would be very greatly disappointed if he did not. And good-natured Elsie, in order to make so many young folks happy, named the matter to her father, and begged him, as a personal favor to herself, in consideration of her recent arrival home, to give a party. So General Garnet, willing to please his child, and believing, besides, that a large party might forward his electioneering prospects, gave his consent. He consulted Mrs. Garnet and Dr. Hardcastle, and fixed the time of the ball for that day two weeks. Magnus was with Elsie every day. She perfectly understood, though she could scarcely have told why, for no one had as yet hinted the subject to her, that she was at no very distant period of time to be married to Magnus. She considered her marriage, like her leaving school, her presentation at court, and her coming-out ball, a part of the programme of her happy drama of life, and was content. She loved Magnus. During her absence in England, she had remembered and loved him as she had remembered and loved her father and mother—as one of the elements of her life’s joy. When she returned, she had met him with the fond and free affection of a sister for an only brother. And when she had been at home a week, and Magnus had found opportunity and courage, and led the beautiful and happy girl to a shady nook in the twilight parlor, and told her with the burning eloquence of passion how long, how deeply, how greatly he had loved her; how she had been at once his one memory and his one hope—his incentive, his dream, his inspiration, his guiding star, Elsie heard him with undisguised astonishment at his earnestness and enthusiasm, and wondered to herself where it all came from. And when he, full of doubt and fear, for her free and unembarrassed manner discouraged him, begged her to give him answer, she replied, without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment—nay, even in her native, gladsome, confident manner—that he need not have given himself so much anxiety; that of course everybody knew they were going to be married; didn’t their lands join? and, of course, she had never even thought of retreating. Now you may think from that speech that Elsie was a sadly heartless and mercenary and calculating little baggage. She was as far as possible from being that. She was a fresh, innocent, totally inexperienced girl, who repeated, parrot-like, the sentiments of those around her.