rapture that I feel to-day, and love as I love her, Tom; without knowing something of her worth! Your joy unutterable! No, no, Tom. It's mine, it's mine."
"No, no, John," said Tom. "It's mine, it's mine."
Their friendly contention was brought to a close by little Ruth herself, who came peeping in at the door. And oh, the look, the glorious, half-proud, half-timid look she gave Tom, when her lover drew her to his side! As much as to say, "Yes indeed, Tom, he will do it. But then he has a right you know. Because I am fond of him, Tom."
As to Tom, he was perfectly delighted. He could have sat and looked at them, just as they were, for hours.
"I have told Tom, love; as we agreed; that we are not going to permit him to run away, and that we cannot possibly allow it. The loss of one person, and such a person as Tom, too, out of our small household of three, is not to be endured; and so I have told him. Whether he is considerate, or whether he is only selfish, I don't know. But he needn't be considerate, for he is not the least restraint upon us. Is he, dearest Ruth?"
Well! He really did not seem to be any particular restraint upon them. Judging from what ensued.
Was it folly in Tom to be so pleased by their remembrance of him, at such a time? Was their graceful love a folly, were their dear caresses follies, was their lengthened parting folly? Was it folly in him to watch her window from the street, and rate its scantiest gleam of light above all diamonds; folly in her to breathe his name upon her knees, and pour out her pure heart before that Being, from whom such hearts and such affections come!
If these be follies, then Fiery Face go on and prosper! If they be not, then Fiery Face avaunt! But set the crunched bonnet at some other single gentleman, in any case, for one is lost to thee for ever!
CHAPTER LIV.
GIVES THE AUTHOR GREAT CONCERN. FOR IT IS THE LAST IN THE BOOK.
Todgers's was in high feather, and mighty preparations for a late breakfast were astir in its commercial bowers. The blissful morning had arrived when Miss Pecksniff was to be united, in holy matrimony, to Augustus.
Miss Pecksniff was in a frame of mind, equally becoming to herself and the occasion. She was full of clemency and conciliation. She had laid in several chaldrons of live coals, and was prepared to heap them on the heads of her enemies. She bore no spite or malice in her heart. Not the least.
Quarrels, Miss Pecksniff said, were dreadful things in families; and though she never could forgive her dear papa, she was willing to receive her other relations. They had been separated, she observed, too long. It was enough to call down a judgment upon the family. She believed
