The day was bright and breezy, and there, high up on that hill overlooking the Tappan Zee, under that clump of trees, with their embracing branches forming a bower, in the very spot where they had liberated their hearts and pledged their love, and bid each other a sad adieu on the morning Tite sailed on his voyage, the young lovers were seated again. Hour after hour passed, and still they sat there, for Tite was recounting his adventures; telling Mattie the story of his strange voyage, and listening in return to her recital of what had taken place during his absence. Indeed, so earnestly were they engaged relating what had happened since they had been separated that they quite forgot dinner; and on returning to the house, found Mrs. Chapman in a state of great anxiety. It was not that they had been absent so long; but the young gentleman would find things cold and unsatisfactory. The truth was, Mrs. Chapman had dressed herself with a view to a little display, and was a little disappointed at not having the opportunity to make it before a full table. Mr. Bowles, too, had been ordered to appear bright and nice, in his new livery and top-boots, to wait on the family at dinner, and show, by his attentions to the young gentleman, that he was a well-brought-up servant. In fine, the lady so embarrassed the young gentleman with her attentions, that he was glad when dinner was over. I ought not to forget to mention that Chapman, though he was less demonstrative, took several occasions to assure the young gentleman of the high respect he had always held him in--especially on account of his father and mother. Tite went home when dinner was over; but returned again in the evening, for there was an attraction there he could not resist. And it was then that Mrs. Chapman joined their hands, invoked a blessing on their heads and called them her children. "I always did like the young gentleman--I am sure I always did," she added, with an air of condescension. "My daughter knows I always did. It was not on the young gentleman's account that I entertained a little misgiving (just a little) in reconciling the family connection." Pausing suddenly, the lady turned to Mattie in a somewhat confused manner: "My daughter, my daughter," she returned, "you must overlook a number of little things. You will--won't you? Now, don't say I am vain. But it was such a queer--yes, such a vulgar and very common name to carry into society." "There's just one favor I have to ask, my daughter. I am sure the young gentleman won't object to it--I am sure he won't." Again Mrs. Chapman paused, and seemed a little confused. "Certainly, ma, certainly," replied Mattie, with a pleasant smile, "anything to please my dear mother."