“I thought I was going to marry a quiet, studious, steady-going man; and here I find myself engaged to a romantic youth who flies about in the most undignified manner, embraces people behind doors, sings opera airs,—very much out of tune by the way,—and conducts himself more like an infatuated Claude Melnotte, than a respectable gentleman on the awful verge of matrimony. Nothing can surprise me now: I’m prepared for any thing, even the sight of my Quakerish lover dancing a jig.” “Just what I’ve been longing to do! Come and take a turn: it will do you good;” and, to Christie’s utter amazement, David caught her round the waist and waltzed her down the boarded walk with a speed and skill that caused less havoc among the flower-pots than one would imagine, and seemed to delight the plants, who rustled and nodded as if applauding the dance of the finest double flower that had ever blossomed in their midst. “I can’t help it, Christie,” he said, when he had landed her breathless and laughing at the other end. “I feel like a boy out of school, or rather a man out of prison, and must enjoy my liberty in some way. I’m not a talker, you know; and, as the laws of gravitation forbid my soaring aloft anywhere, I can only express my joyfully uplifted state of mind by ‘prancing,’ as you call it. Never mind dignity: let’s be happy, and by and by I’ll sober down.” “I don’t want you to; I love to see you so young and happy, only you are not the old David, and I’ve got to get acquainted with the new one.” “I hope you’ll like him better than the frost-bitten ‘old David’ you first knew and were kind enough to love. Mother says I’ve gone back to the time before we lost Letty, and I sometimes feel as if I had. In that case you will find me a proud, impetuous, ambitious fellow, Christie, and how will that suit?” “Excellently; I like pride of your sort; impetuosity becomes you, for you have learned to control it if need be; and the ambition is best of all. I always wondered at your want of it, and longed to stir you up; for you did not seem the sort of man to be contented with mere creature comforts when there are so many fine things men may do. What shall you choose, Davy?” “I shall wait for time to show. The sap is all astir in me, and I’m ready for my chance. I don’t know what it is, but I feel very sure that some work will be given me into which I can put my whole heart and soul and strength. I spoilt my first chance; but I know I shall have another, and, whatever it is, I am ready to do my best, and live or die for it as God wills.” “So am I,” answered Christie, with a voice as earnest and a face as full of hopeful resolution as his own. Then they went back to their work, little dreaming as they tied roses and twined smilax wreaths, how near that other chance was; how soon they were to be called upon to keep their promise, and how well each was to perform the part given them in life and death.