flushed, and her countenance radiant with smiles!—Dear Arthur! what did I not owe to you for this and every other happy meeting?—Through him, I was at once delivered from all formality, and terror, and constraint. In love affairs, there is no mediator like a merry, simple-hearted child—ever ready to cement divided hearts, to span the unfriendly gulph of custom, to melt the ice of cold reserve, and overthrow the separating walls of dread formality and pride.
"Well, Mr. Markham, what is it?" said the young mother, accosting me with a pleasant smile.
"I want you to look at this book, and, if you please, to take it, and peruse it at your leisure. I make no apology for calling you out on such a lovely evening though it be for a matter of no greater importance."
"Tell him to come in, Mamma," said Arthur.
"Would you like to come in?" asked the lady.
