marrying the son? Not that I should ever say as much to father: I could not break through the reserve which had always existed between us.
"I see thou art in perplexity," said Dr. Hathaway, falling into the "plain language," as he sometimes did with me when very much in earnest. "Is there anything I can do for thee, Eve?"
"Nothing. O no, Friend Edward, and I mustn't tell thee what it is," stammered I. "I am not perplexed at all ; and if I am, thee mustn't notice it."
He looked at me, and then glanced across the room at Adam, who seemed to be furtively watching us. In my simplicity I never imagined that the story was very easy to read.
"My dear child," said the doctor, in his kind way, "I would not intrude on thy confidence for the world, but—"
What he might have said I do not know; something to be remembered afterward; something to give me a little aid, I do not doubt; but just then Cousin Sophia came languidly along and desired the doctor to pronounce on a new "symptom." I was vexed: I wished to talk longer with Friend Edward. Not that I would have told him anything, but I might have asked a few leading questions, I thought, without betraying Adam. While Miriam was putting on her things, he found time to say:
"Be true to thyself, Eve. Let no one over-persuade thee to any step thy heart does not sanction. Next time we meet I have a long story to tell thee. Good-by."
"Be true to thyself, Eve." Those words rang in my ears.
But I was not true to myself any more than was the great grandmother of us all. I did not know what the truth was. My mind was tossed up and down like the sea in a storm. I had no mother whose advice I could seek. Adam loved me so dearly—that was what I thought—and father said to me with such a confident look,
"I'm glad thee seems to be led in the right path, Eve."
Cousin Sophia rallied me upon being in love. John made broad jokes on the subject. I supposed they all knew better than I did. The fates seemed to push me along, just as the adverse wind blew me that first day against Adam's drab coat. I supposed I was led in the right path when I put my hand in Friend Mott's, and said:
"If thee wants me I am thine."
"Thank the Lord," ejaculated Adam, " let us pray."
"Thee is a good daughter," said father, buoyantly; "thee'll make a good wife."
"If thee chooses to be a fool," said brother John, doggedly, "I've nothing to say. If thee would only look straight before thy nose, thee'd see a man worth twenty Adam Motts."
"I suppose thee means thyself, John."
Father and Adam had long talks about my property which had been accumulating in bank ever since my mother's death. As Adam was to be a merchant, father thought it best for him to take my money and set himself up in business. I had no objections to make.
When father and Adam discussed these matters, I stole off by myself. I loved to keep out of the way on the slightest excuse. Adam had always been hard to entertain, and now conversation with him was well nigh impossible. We sat in the parlor by the half hour without speaking. Only when he talked about
