“And I have never seen him yet to thank him for saving our darling’s life; and Enna’s too.  Yes; let us go.”

Lester and his aunt were alone in the drawing-room at Fairview, when their visitors were announced.

There seemed a slight air of embarrassment about the young man at the moment of their entrance; but it was quickly dispelled by the kindly warmth of their greeting.

The four chatted together for some time on indifferent topics; then Mrs. Lester found some excuse for leaving the room, and Mrs. Travilla seized the opportunity to pour out her thanks to Elsie’s rescuer from a watery grave.

This made a favorable opening for Lester, and modestly disclaiming any right to credit for what he had done, he frankly told the parents all that was in his heart toward their daughter, why he had refrained from speaking before, and his purpose not to seek to win her until he could bring fame and fortune to lay at her feet.

He began in almost painful confusion, but something in the faces of his listeners reassured him; for they expressed neither surprise nor displeasure, though tears were trembling in the soft brown eyes of the mother.

Lester had concluded, and for a moment there was silence, then Mr. Travilla said—­a slight huskiness in his voice, “Young man, I like your straightforward dealing; but do you know the worth of the prize you covet?”

“I know, sir, that her price is above rubies, and that I am not worthy of her.”

“Well, Mr. Leland, we will let her be the judge of that,” the father answered.  “Shall we not, little wife?” turning to Elsie with a look that had in it all the admiring homage of the lover, as well as the tender devotion of the husband.

“Yes,” she sighed, seeming already to feel the pang of parting with her child.

“Do you mean that I may speak now?” Lester asked, half-incredulous of his happiness.

“Yes,” Mr. Travilla said; “though not willing to spare our child yet, we would not have you part in doubt of each other’s feelings.  And,” he added with a kindly smile, “if you have won her heart, the want of wealth is not much against you.  ‘Worth makes the man.’”

They walked home together—­Elsie and her husband—­sauntering along arm in arm, by the silvery moonlight, like a pair of lovers.

There was something very lover-like in the gaze he bent upon the sweet, fair face at his side, almost sad in its quietness.

“What is it, little wife?” he asked.

“Ah, Edward, how can we spare her—­our darling, our first-born?”

“Perhaps we shall not be called upon to do so; he may not have won her heart.”

She shook her head with a faint smile.

“She has tried to hide it—­dear innocent child! but I know the symptoms; I have not forgotten.”  And she looked up into his face, blushing and happy as in the days when he had wooed and won his bride.