“And so you supposed I had come to make a confidant of =you=.  I wonder you did not knock me down for my presumption, in expecting to eclipse you in her eyes.  No, no, my dear Sir, I was not such a simpleton, for had I entertained hopes of that kind before, the joy which lighted up her fine eyes, and glowed on her countenance, on that eventful meeting with you on her return, combined, how often, with subsequent similar observation, would have been quite sufficient proof to me that my expectations were ‘baseless as the fabric of a vision.’”

Arthur smiled and shook his head, though the subject was by no means an unpleasing one, at least judging from his animated countenance, and the rapt attention which he paid to every word.

“But who, may I ask, Ernest, was your informant as to my claims to the title of ‘woman-hater?’”

“Not Miss Wiltshire, I can credibly affirm.  More than that I do not think it is fair to tell you.”

“Well, well, I am perfectly satisfied, and now I think it is time for us to retrace our steps in the direction of home.”

CHAPTER XV.

“And so our dear young lady is married, Ellen?” said Mrs. Williamson to her daughter, who had just returned from a visit to B——.

“Yes, mother, and a beautiful bride she made.”

“Ay, I doubt it not, and as good as beautiful,” said the father, who had just come in to Ellen’s neat little cottage, to hear all the particulars connected with her late journey.

“And they treated you well, Ellen, did they not?”

“Treated me =well=? why, mother, it was like a new world; and they were so kind to me, took me to every place, and showed me everything worth seeing.  And, dear me, but it is a beautiful city; such grand buildings, such water-works, such parks, all laid out with trees, and walks, and grass-plots, and seats, where you can rest whenever you choose,—­and then at night, the splendid shops are so dazzlingly lit up, and the streets almost as bright as day.  Oh, surely it is a fine thing to live in the city!”

“Ha, ha,” said a clear, manly voice, and the speaker entered the door; “so my little bird has become restive since her taste of city life, and longs to fly away again.”

“Indeed, Edward, that is not true.  If I had been brought up to city-ways, I think I should like to live there; but, now, I like my home better, far better.  I only wish we could have the meetings on Sunday, that I went to there; oh, mother,” she said, as she turned suddenly round to address her, “it would have done your heart good to have heard the singing, and have listened to the sermons, and such grand churches, all crowded too.”

“But I want to hear everything from the beginning,” said Mr. Williamson.