“Yes; she has a very attentive suitor in Mr. Ensign,” returned Miss Belinda shortly. “A pleasant appearing young man,” she ejaculated next moment; “worthy in many respects of success, I should say.” “Has he—do you mean to say that he has visited you in Grotewell?” asked Mr. Sylvester, his eye upon the paper in his hand. “Certainly; a few more interviews will settle it.” The paper rustled in Mr. Sylvester’s grasp, but his voice was composed if not formal, as he observed, “She regards his attentions then with favor?” “She wears his flowers in her bosom, and brightens like a flower herself when he is seen to approach. If allowed to go her way unhindered, I have but little doubt as to how it will end. Mr. Ensign is not handsome, but I am told that he has every other qualification likely to make a gentle creature like Paula happy.” “He is a good fellow,” exclaimed Mr. Sylvester under his breath. “And goodness is the first essential in the character of the man who is to marry Paula,” inexorably observed Miss Belinda. “An open, cheerful disposition, a clear conscience and a past with no dark pages in its history, must mark him who is to link unto his fate our pure and sensitive Paula. Is it not so, Mr. Sylvester?” The advertisements in that morning’s _Tribune_ must have been unusually interesting, judging from the difficulty which Mr. Sylvester experienced in withdrawing his eyes from them. “The man whom Paula marries,” said he at last, “can neither be too good, too kind, or too pure. Nor shall any other than a good, kind, and pure man possess her,” he added in a tone that while low, effectually hushed even the slow-to-be-intimidated Miss Belinda. In another moment Paula entered. Oh, the morning freshness of some faces! Like the singing of birds in a prison, is the sound and sight of a lovely maiden coming into the grim, gray atmosphere of a winter breakfast room. Paula was exceptionally gifted with this auroral cheer which starts the day so brightly. At sight of her face Mr. Sylvester dropped his paper, and even Miss Belinda straightened herself more energetically. “Merry Christmas,” cried her sweet young voice, and immediately the whole day seemed to grow glad with promise and gaysome with ringing sleigh-bells. “It’s snowing, did you know it? A world of life is in the air; the flakes dance as they come down, like dervishes in a frenzy. It was all we lacked to make the day complete; now we have everything.” “Yes,” said Miss Belinda, with a significant glance at the table, “everything.” Paula followed her glance, saw the silver box with its wealth of blossoms, and faltered back with a quick look at Mr. Sylvester’s grave and watchful countenance. “Mr. Ensign seems to be possessed of clairvoyance,” observed Miss Belinda easily. “How he could know that you were to be in town to-day, I cannot imagine.”