with men who have a penchant for overcoming difficulties, because it is well known that the fact of conciliating or subduing it is justly considered no ordinary achievement.  A great number of our old maids may trace their solitude and their celibacy to the very questionable gift of such beauty, and the dispositions which usually accompany it.  She was tall, and had now grown thin, and her features had become sharpened by ill-temper into those of a flesh-less, angular-faced vixen.  Altogether she was a faithful exponent of her own evil and intolerable disposition; and it was said that she had inherited that and the “unlucky eye” from a family that was said to have I been deservedly unpopular, and equally unscrupulous in their resentments.

“Well, Harry,” said she, after the warmhearted ebullition of feeling produced by his appearance had subsided, “so you have returned to us at last; but indeed, you return now to a blank and dismal prospect.  Miss Goodwin’s adder tongue has charmed the dotage of your silly old uncle to some purpose for herself.”

“Confound it, Jenny,” said her husband, “let the young man breathe, at least, before you bring up that eternal subject.  Is not the matter over and decided and where is the use of your making both yourself and us unhappy by discussing it?”

“It may be decided, but it is not over, Lindsay,” she replied; “don’t imagine it:  I shall pursue the Goodwins, especially that sorceress, Alice, with a vengeance that will annul the will, and circumvent those who wheedled him into the making of it.  My curse upon them all, as it will be!”

“Harry, when you become better acquainted with your mother,” said his step-father, “you will get sick of this.  Have you breakfasted; for that is more to the point?”

“I have, sir,” replied the other; “and you would scarcely guess where;” and here he smiled and glanced significantly at his mother.

“Why, I suppose,” said Lindsay, “in whatever inn you stopped at.”

“No,” he replied; “I was obliged to seek shelter from the storm last night, and where do you think I found it?”

“Heaven knows.  Where?”

“Why, with your friend and neighbor, Mr. Goodwin.”

“No friend, Harry,” said his mother; “don’t say that.”

“I slept there last night,” he proceeded, “and breakfasted there this morning, and nothing could exceed the cordiality and kindness of my reception.”

“Did they know who you were?” asked his mother, with evident interest.

“Not till this morning, at breakfast.”

“Well,” said she again, “when they heard it?”

“Why, their attention and kindness even redoubled,” replied her son; “and as for Miss Goodwin herself, she’s as elegant, as sweet, and as lovely a girl as I ever looked on.  Mother, I beg you to entertain no implacable or inveterate enmity against her.  I will stake my existence that she never stooped to any fraudulent circumvention of my poor uncle.  Take my word for it, the intent and execution of the will must be accounted for otherwise.”