CHAPTER XXVII.

The decision was as I expected it to be; and the old property came back into the family.  There were few hearts in S——­, that did not beat with pleasure, when it was known that Mr. Wallingford and his lovely wife were to pass from Ivy Cottage to the stately Allen House.

I think the strife between Mr. Dewey and the old executors was severe, and that he yielded only when he saw that they were immovable.  An open rupture with Squire Floyd was a consequence of his persistent determination to have the Allen property transferred; and after the settlement of this business, they held no personal communication with each other.

The change in Mr. Dewey’s appearance, after it became a settled thing that he must remove from the splendid mansion he had occupied for years, was remarkable.  He lost the impressive swagger that always said, “I am the first man in S——­;” and presented the appearance of one who had suffered some great misfortune, without growing better under the discipline.  He did not meet you with the free, open, better-than-you look that previously characterized him, but with a half sidelong falling of the eyes, in which there was, to me, something very sinister.

As far as our observation went, Mr. Wallingford put on no new phase of character.  There was about him the same quiet, thoughtful dignity of manner which had always commanded involuntary respect.  He showed no unseemly haste in dispossessing Mr. Dewey of his elegant home.  Two months after the title deeds had passed, I called in at Ivy Cottage, now one of the sweetest, little places in S——­, for Constance, who had been passing the evening there.  Not in any home, through all the region round, into which it was my privilege to enter, was there radiant, like a warm, enticing atmosphere that swelled your lungs with a new vitality, and gave all your pulses a freer beat, such pure love—­maternal and conjugal—­as pervaded this sanctuary of the heart.  I say maternal, as well as conjugal, for two dear babes had brought into this home attendant angels from the higher heaven.

A soft astral lamp threw its mellow rays about the room.  Mr. Wallingford had a book open in his hand, from which he had been reading aloud to his wife and Constance.  He closed the volume as I entered, and rising, took my hand, saying, with even more than his usual cordiality—­

“Now our circle is complete.”

“Excuse me from rising, Doctor,” said Mrs. Wallingford, a smile of welcome giving increased beauty to her countenance, as she offered the hand that was free—­the other held her babe, just three months old, tenderly to her bosom.

“What have you been reading?” I asked, as I seated myself, and glanced towards the volume which Mr. Wallingford had closed and laid upon the table.

“A memorable relation of the Swedish Seer,” he replied, smiling.

“Touching marriage in heaven,” said I, smiling in return.