"'Do not tell her so,' said I; 'it would certainly spoil her. She _is_ uncommonly pretty, I'll admit; but unless something unforeseen happens she will probably marry within her own sphere of life, toil unceasingly, rear a brood of uncouth bumpkins--a hag at thirty, and thus fulfil her destiny.' "Elizabeth looked exceeding wise, but said nothing. "Ailsee came to us at that moment, and I looked at her closely as she stood in the sunlight, her bonnet dangling from her arm. She was undeniably beautiful--a dainty little head, crowned with a wealth of golden-brown hair, sweet hazel eyes, a lovely mouth, and the most bewitching dimples. There was nothing of the milkmaid style about her, for she lacked the vivid coloring and tendency to embonpoint of the typical rustic beauty. I pictured her to myself entering the room at one of the Bachelors' on the arm of the leader of the cotillion, and the subsequent sensation and heart-burnings. "My reverie was interrupted by a hoarse voice calling, 'Ailsee! Ailsee!'--seemingly just over in the forest. "'Dad wants me,' she said with a smile. 'I'll go and fetch him back with me. Please you folks wait a moment.' And she tripped lightly down the garden and out into the wilderness beyond. "Ten or fifteen minutes slipped by without the return of either Ailsee or her father. The footfalls in the forest died away, and the stillness was becoming oppressive. "'Remarkable, truly,' said my wife, with a puzzled expression. 'Where could she have gone? Do you think her father is keeping her? Dearest,' she added gravely, 'don't laugh, I feel--I feel--that something dreadful is going to happen. I don't know exactly what, but----' "'Of course you don't know exactly what,' I interrupted. 'Come now, be a sensible little woman. You surely don't believe in presentiments. It is the heat; this sticky, Southern heat! I feel a little queer myself.' "But nothing I could say quite banished the singular fancy which had taken possession of my young wife. Womenkind cling tenaciously to absurd ideas, especially when they are of the worrying kind; and Elizabeth looked so troubled and sad that I soon caught the feeling and became melancholy too. "It was long past noon and intensely sultry, and we were sitting on the porch where occasionally the faintest shadow of a breeze made life more endurable. Our horses, maddened by the flies and heat, chafed and stamped restlessly out at the gate. Elizabeth tried to amuse herself with a huge album of daguerreotypes which occupied the place of honor in the cabin parlor, and I smoked and lounged about, wondering what had become of Ailsee.