A Plethora of Happiness.
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iss Merriweather, I believe?"
The young lady addressed courtesied assent, and glanced enquiringly at the speaker. Possibly there was an unconscious dash of admiration in that transient survey. The gentleman who stood before her was somewhat over six feet in height. His bearing was remarkably manly, a mingling of the soldier and courtier; perhaps it was rather too stately, but graceful withal. He had large, hazel eyes, a florid complexion, faultless mouth and teeth, close-curling, chestnut hair, a moustache and beard of such silken luxuriance that it could never have been profaned by a razor.
"I am Angelica Willington's husband," was his reply to the lady's look of interrogation.
"Mr. Willington! I am delighted to know you," exclaimed Ruth Merriwether, extending her hand, with hearty cordiality.
"Not move delighted than Angelica and I were when we heard of your unexpected arrival in Charleston. Angelica is such an invalid that she
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