“Let me come nearer to Paradise,” he said, half-abstractedly, as if he were following his own thoughts, and he pressed his lips to the fingers upon which the ruby gleamed.

Miss Grace Plumer was almost frightened.  This was a very different performance from Mr. Sligo Moultrie’s—­very different from any she had known.  She felt as if she suggested, in some indescribable way, strange and beautiful thoughts to Abel Newt.  He looked and spoke as if he addressed himself to the thoughts she had evoked rather than to herself.  Yet she felt herself to be both the cause and the substance.  It was very sweet.  She did not know what she felt; she did not know how much she dared.  But when he went away she knew that Abel Newt was appointed first flirter, vice Sligo Moultrie removed.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING.

“On the 23d instant, Alfred Dinks, Esq., of Boston, to Fanny, oldest daughter of Boniface Newt, Esq., of this city.”

Fanny wrote the notice with her own hands, and made Alfred take it to the papers.  In this manner she was before her mother-in-law in spreading the news.  In this manner, also, as Boniface Newt, Esq., sat at breakfast, he learned of his daughter’s marriage.  His face grew purple.  He looked apoplectic as he said to his wife,

“Nancy, what in God’s name does this mean?”

His frightened wife asked what, and he read the announcement aloud.

He rose from table, and walked up and down the room.

“Did you know any thing of this?” inquired he.  “What does it mean?”

“Dear me!  I thought he was engaged to Hope Wayne,” replied Mrs. Newt, crying.

There was a moment’s silence.  Then Mr. Newt said, with a sneer,

“It seems to me that a mother whose, daughter gets married without her knowledge is a very curious kind of mother—­an extremely competent kind of mother.”

He resumed his walking.  Mrs. Newt went on with her weeping.  But Boniface Newt was aware of the possibilities in the case of Alfred, and therefore tried to recover himself and consider the chances.

“What do you know about this fellow?” said he, petulantly, to his wife.

“I don’t know any thing in particular,” she sobbed.

“Do you know whether he has money, or whether his father has?”

“No; but old Mr. Burt is his grandfather.”

“What! his mother’s father?”

“I believe so.  I know Fanny always said he was Hope Wayne’s cousin.”

Mr. Newt pondered for a little while.  His brow contracted.

“Why on earth have they run away?  Did Mr. Burt’s grandson suppose he would be unwelcome to me?  Has he been in the habit of coming here, Nancy?”

“No, not much.”

“Have you seen them since this thing?”

“No, indeed,” replied the mother, bursting into tears afresh.