“At tea time I met the gentleman. He had evidently made his title good. I was not only favorably impressed with him but actually struck. Of all the high-bred, clear-eyed, polished and kindly gentlemen who had sat about the board since I first came into the family in Mrs. Japha’s lifetime, here was surely the finest, the handsomest and the best; and surprised in more ways than one, I was giving full play to my relief and exhilaration, when I caught sight of Jacqueline’s eye, and felt again the cold shudders of secret doubt and apprehension. Smile upon him as she would, coquet with him as she did, the flame and the glory that drew her like an inspiration to her feet when his name was announced, had fled, and left not a shadow behind. Had he failed in his expressions of devotion? Was he hard or cold or severe, under all that pleasant and charming manner? Had the hot soul of our motherless child rushed upon ice, and in the shock of the dreadful chill, fallen inert? No, his looks bespake no coldness; they dwelt upon Jacqueline’s lovely but inscrutable face, with honest fervor and boundless regard. He evidently loved her most passionately, but she—if it had not been for that first moment of unconscious betrayal, I should have decided that she cared for him no more than she did for the few others who had adored her, in the short space of her incomprehensible life. “The mystery was not cleared up when she came to me that night with a short, ‘How do you like my lover, Margery?’ I was forty years her senior, but she always called me Margery. “‘I think he is the finest, most agreeable man I ever met,’ said I. ‘Is he your lover, Jacqueline? Are you going to marry him?’ “She turned about from the vase which she was denuding of its flowers, and gave me one of her sphinx-like looks. ‘You must ask papa,’ said she. ‘He holds the destinies of the Japhas in his hand, does he not?’ “‘Does he?’ I involuntarily whispered to myself; following the steady poise of her head and the assured movements of her graceful form, with a glance of doubt, but loving her all the same, O loving her all and ever the same! “‘Your father is not the man to cross you when the object of your affections is as worthy as this gentleman. He loved your mother too fondly.’ “‘He did?’ She had turned quick as a flash and was looking me straight in the eyes. “‘I never saw such union!’ I exclaimed, vaguely remembering that her mother’s name had always seemed to have power to move her. ‘There was no parade of it before the world; but here at their own fireside, it was heart to heart and soul to soul. It was not love it was assimilation.’