and our request was civilly but peremptorily declined.  This was while we were in New York two years ago.  But a few days afterward we were at church with Mrs. Bowman, and Madame de Veaudrey saw us.  She called the next day upon Mrs. Bowman and inquired who we were, and then came to me and begged to withdraw her letter, and to take Alice at once under her charge.  It seems that Alice resembled one of her daughters—­at all events, she was completely fascinated by her, and Alice soon came to regard her in return as the loveliest of created beings.  I must admit I found her a little still—­though she was lovely.  But still, I cannot help being afraid that she has made Alice a little to particular; you know the young gentlemen don’t like a girl to be too stiff.”

Farnham felt his heart grow hot with something like scorn for the worthy woman, as she prattled on in this way.  He could hardly trust himself to reply and soon took his leave.  Alice rose and gave him her hand with frank and winning cordiality.  As he felt the warm soft pressure of her strong fingers, and the honest glance of her wide young eyes, his irritation died away for a moment, but soon came back with double force.

“Gracious heavens!” he exclaimed, as he closed the door behind him, and stepped into the clear spring starlight, hardly broken as yet by the budding branches of the elms and limes.  “What a crazy woman that mother is!  Her daughter has come home to her a splendid white swan, and she is waddling and quacking about with anxiety and fear lest the little male ducklings that frequent the pond should find her too white and too stately.”

Instead of walking home he turned up the long avenue, and went rapidly on, spurred by his angry thoughts.

“What will become of that beautiful girl?  She cannot hold out forever against the universal custom.  She will be led by her friends and pushed by her mother, until she drops to the level of the rest and becomes a romping flirt; she will go to parties with young Furrey, and to church with young Snevel.  I shall see her tramping the streets with one, and waltzing all night with another, and sitting on the stairs with a third.  She is too pretty to be let alone, and her mother is against her.  She is young and the force of nature is strong, and women are born for sacrifice—­she will marry one of these young shrimps, and do her duty in the sphere whereto she has been called.”

At this thought so sharp a pang of disgust shot through him, that he started with surprise.

“Oh, no, this is not jealousy; it is a protest against what is probable in the name of the eternal fitness of things.”

Nevertheless, he went on thinking very disagreeably about Mr. Furrey.

“How can a nice girl endure a fellow who pomatums his hair in that fashion, and sounds his R’s in that way, and talks about Theedore Thommus and Cinsunnatta?  Still, they do it, and Providence must be on the side of that sort of men.  But what business is all this of mine?  I have half a mind to go to Europe again.”