CHAPTER

  I. Falling in love
  II.  What she thinks of it
  III.  The sister
  IV.  Preparation for marriage
  V. Wedding, and wedding-trip
  VI.  Honey-moon, and after
  VII.  Will she like it? 
  VIII.  Spindlewood
  IX.  A crisis
  X. Changes
  XI.  Newport; or, the paradise of nothing to do
  XII.  Home A la pompadour
  XIII.  John’s birthday
  XIV.  A great moral conflict
  XV.  The Follingsbees arrive
  XVI.  Mrs. John Seymour’s party, and what came of it
  XVII.  After the battle
  XVIII.  A brick turns up
  XIX.  The Castle of indolence
  XX.  The Van Astrachans
  XXI.  Mrs. Follingsbee’s party, and what came of it
  XXII.  The Spider-web broken
  XXIII.  Common-sense arguments
  XXIV.  Sentiment v.  Sensibility
  XXV.  Wedding bells
  XXVI.  Motherhood
  XXVII.  Checkmate
  XXVIII.  After the storm
  XXIX.  The new Lillie

CHAPTER I.

FALLING IN LOVE.

[Illustration:  Lillie.]

“Who is that beautiful creature?” said John Seymour, as a light, sylph-like form tripped up the steps of the veranda of the hotel where he was lounging away his summer vacation.

“That!  Why, don’t you know, man?  That is the celebrated, the divine Lillie Ellis, the most adroit ‘fisher of men’ that has been seen in our days.”

“By George, but she’s pretty, though!” said John, following with enchanted eyes the distant motions of the sylphide.

The vision that he saw was of a delicate little fairy form; a complexion of pearly white, with a cheek of the hue of a pink shell; a fair, sweet, infantine face surrounded by a fleecy radiance of soft golden hair.  The vision appeared to float in some white gauzy robes; and, when she spoke or smiled, what an innocent, fresh, untouched, unspoiled look there was upon the face!  John gazed, and thought of all sorts of poetical similes:  of a “daisy just wet with morning dew;” of a “violet by a mossy stone;” in short, of all the things that poets have made and provided for the use of young gentlemen in the way of falling in love.

This John Seymour was about as good and honest a man as there is going in this world of ours.  He was a generous, just, manly, religious young fellow.  He was heir to a large, solid property; he was a well-read lawyer, established in a flourishing business; he was a man that all the world spoke well of, and had cause to speak well of.  The only duty to society which John had left as yet unperformed was that of matrimony.  Three and thirty years had passed; and, with every advantage for supporting a wife, with a charming home all ready for a mistress, John, as yet, had not proposed to be the defender and provider for any of the more helpless portion of creation.  The cause of this