—­Maturings “Bertram."

The evening was cool, and our whole party were gathered in the parlor of the cottage occupied by the Dinsmores and Travillas—­games, fancy-work, reading, and conversation making the time fly.

Edward and Zoe had drawn a little apart from the others, and were conversing together in an undertone.

“Suppose we go out and promenade the veranda for a little,” he said, presently.  “I will get you a wrap and that knit affair for your head that I think so pretty and becoming.”

“Crocheted,” she corrected; “yes, I’m quite in the mood for a promenade with my husband; and I’m sure the air outside must be delightful.  But you won’t have to go farther than that stand in the corner for my things.”

He brought them, wrapped the shawl carefully about her, and they went out.

Betty, looking after them, remarked aside to her Cousin Elsie, “How lover-like they are still!”

“Yes,” Elsie said, with a glad smile:  “they are very fond of each other, and it rejoices my heart to see it.”

“And one might say exactly the same of the captain and Violet,” pursued Betty, in a lower tone, and glancing toward that couple, as they sat side by side on the opposite sofa—­Violet with her babe in her arms, the captain clucking and whistling to it, while it cooed and laughed in his face—­Violet’s ever-beautiful face more beautiful than its wont, with its expression of exceeding love and happiness as her glance rested now upon her husband and now upon her child.

“Yes,” Elsie said again, watching them, with a joyous smile still wreathing her lips and shining in her eyes; “and it is just so with my dear Elsie and Lester.  I am truly blest in seeing my children so well mated and so truly happy.”

“Zoe, little wife,” Edward was saying, out on the veranda, “can you spare me for a day or two?”

“Spare you, Ned?  How do you mean?”

“I should like to join the boys—­Bob, Harold, and Herbert—­in a little trip on a sailing vessel which leaves here early to-morrow morning and will return on the evening of the next day or the next but one.  I should ask my little wife to go with us, but, unfortunately, the vessel has no accommodations for ladies.  What do you say, love?  I shall not go without your consent.”

“Thank you, you dear boy, for saying that,” she responded, affectionately, squeezing the arm on which she leaned; “go if you want to; I know I can’t help missing the kindest and dearest husband in the world, but I shall try to be happy in looking forward to the joy of reunion on your return.”

“That’s a dear,” he said, bending down to kiss the ruby lips.  “It is a great delight to meet after a short separation, and we should miss that entirely if we never parted at all.”

“But oh, Ned, if anything should happen to you!” she said, in a quivering voice.

“Hush, hush, love,” he answered, soothingly; “don’t borrow trouble; remember we are under the same protection on the sea as on the land, and perhaps as safe on one as on the other.”