It was not long before this was completed, and with a rush of pleasure to his heart, Major Singleton heard the thrice-uttered note—the signal agreed upon—directly beneath his chamber window. He rose at the sound, and silently descending the stairs, passed through the hall, where, in something like uncomfortable solitude, the fair Bella sat alone. She looked up as she heard his footsteps, and the gracious smile which her lips put on, was an invitation to make himself happy in a seat beside her. But he resisted the blandishment, and lifting his hat as he passed, with a smile in return, he soon disappeared from her presence, and joined the two who awaited him. All was ready for departure, but Davis craved a few minutes' indulgence to return to the house.
"Why, what should carry you back, Davis?" asked Humphries, peevishly.
"Nothing, Bill; but I must—I will go," said the other.
"I see, I see: you will be as foolish as ever," exclaimed the former, as the lover moved away.
"The poor fellow's half mad after my sister, major, and she, you see, don't care a straw about him. She happened to smile on him at supper-table, and he takes it for granted he's in a fair way. We must wait for him, I suppose; and if I know Bella, he won't keep us long."
Meanwhile, the seat beside her, which her smile had beckoned Major Singleton to occupy, had been eagerly filled by Davis. The girl was not displeased to see him: she was lonesome, wanted company, and liked, as all other coquettes do, to have continually in her presence some one or other of the many subjects of her daily conquest. It did not much concern her which, so that she was allowed to carry on her pretty little practice. Her graciousness softened very greatly the moody spirit of her swain, so that he half-repented of that rashness which was about to place him in a position calculated, under every probability, to wrest him, for a time at least, from the enjoyment of that society which he so much coveted. Her gentleness, her good-nature, her smiles—so very unfrequent to him for so long a time—almost turned his brain, and his professions of love grew passionate, and he himself almost eloquent in their utterance. Surely, there is no tyranny like that
