Yes! "Charley was Charley still!" The brothers were walking the piazza, Monday morning; and John's smile and Arthur's laugh applauded the quaint humor which came from his lips, as freely as respiration of the air his lungs had inhaled. He was a consummate actor; and his self-command balked the sharpest scrutiny when he chose; but his spirits, this morning, were not feigned. Mrs. Dana, Emma and Laura made their appearance, and at length, Charley's flow of talk could no longer delay the inquiry "Where are Ida and Mr. Lacy?"

"'Brushing the dew upon the upland lawn.'" said Charley. "Gone to ride."

"When did they start?" asked John.

"Just as you shut your eyes for a second nap—luxurious citizen that you are. 'When will they return?'—query the second.—You will see them on the top of that hill in a minute."

They cantered down the avenue in gallant style. Ida was an expert rider; and her escort appeared to as much advantage on horseback as on foot.

"A handsome couple!" said Arthur.

Charley made no reply. "You do your teacher justice," he said, as Ida leaped to the ground, barely touching Mr. Lacy's hand.

"And more could not be said for master or pupil;" she answered, saucily.

"Morning rides are wonderful cosmetics!" he whispered, following her into the hall. She snapped her whip at him, but those mischievous eyes were too searching, and she ran off "to change her dress."

"I am for a walk to the river. Who accompanies me?" said John Dana. Ida held the taper at which he was kindling a cigar—his invariable after-breakfast luxury—and the flame was paled by her vivid glow, as Mr. Lacy said quietly, "I will, sir, with pleasure."

In an hour they returned, and the summons—"Mr. Dana's respects, and if you please ma'am, he wants the pleasure of your company in the drawing-room," robbed her of the last spark of self-possession. She stopped at the door, to muster courage; but her guardian had heard her step, and opened it from within. "I have no lecture for you," he said, passing his arm assuringly around her. "This is an event, we fathers have to bear, as best we may. I am fortunate that your choice has my unqualified sanction. You have acted wisely, nobly, my daughter."

"Dear Mr. Dana! I feared you would think me uncommunicative; but I did not know it myself until within a day or two."

"I am advised of the incidents of your drama. Never try to convince me again, that you are an unromantic young lady! What is your evidence, Mr. Lacy?"

She had not seen, until this speech, that he was present. She bestowed one look upon him, and the magnetic charm of his smile equallized her nerves and thoughts. Mr. Dana would have left the room, but Morton stayed him. In succinct and manly terms, he thanked him for the expression of an esteem, it should be the study of his life to merit. "I am aware, sir, that it is arrant boldness to ask more from your kindness; but you engaged to intercede for me in another suit." Ida looked up, hurriedly. The gentlemen smiled; and Mr. Lacy whispered a sentence in her ear.

"Oh no! no!" she ejaculated, "too soon!"

"Why 'too soon?'" It was John Dana, who drew her away from her lover, and pushed back the shadowing curls from her forehead. "Think of Mr. Lacy and myself as old friends, and speak out the language of your own warm heart. Why 'too soon,' Ida? Don't you know him well, enough?"

Another glance was the signal for another smile.

"Will you ever know him better?" asked Mr. Lacy.

"I think not," she replied.

"You don't like him well enough, then?" pursued Mr. Dana. The curls drooped over her face, and she was mute.

"Perhaps you do not like the idea of resigning your freedom the very day you gain it?"

"No, Mr. Dana! you know that is not it."

"What then?" Mr. Lacy secured her disengaged hand. "If this proposal distresses you, Ida, I revoke it without a murmur, and will abide your convenience, or inclination patiently; but if it is a question of expediency, you cannot suppose that Mr. Dana or myself would urge a measure, we were not assured was reasonable and proper. Your dearest friends are with you—what renders delay necessary or advisable?"

"But what will they say?"

"An odd inquiry from you! What potent 'they' do you mean?"

"Carry—Arthur—Mrs. Dana—Charley—all of them."

"Charley has been my abettor from the beginning. From him I learned your locality; and he warranted me a friendly reception, if nothing more. I should not have had the confidence to propose this immediate union, if he had not favored my ardent wish. You trust in his judgment in other matters—why not now? As for the rest of those you name—when did they oppose anything you advocated?"

"But your friends—your mother?"

"Is prepared to love you as a daughter."

"She wishes me to decide, I see;" said John, dictatorially. "Therefore, silencing all disputes—the fatted calf is slain—the neighbors are bidden—and I, as this perverse maiden's lawful guardian—setting my face, like a flint, against wasteful improvidence—decree an occasion for the feast, instead of a feast for the occasion; and as this must be, the sooner we are rid of the trouble the better. Not a syllable, Miss Ross! you are still a minor; and I will indict you for insubordination, if you are refractory. I am going to tell Jenny to air my white vest for to-morrow evening."

Emma, Laura and Carry were in Mrs. Dana's apartment; and when the clamour of amazement lulled, not a hand was raised in the negative.

"She deserves the best husband that can be given her;" said Carry, "and from my knowledge of Mr. Lacy's character, I expect he is almost good enough for her."

"He would have been my choice from among all the gentlemen of my acquaintance," answered Mrs. Dana, "as she and Charley will not make a match."

"Ah, Jenny! did I not say you would have to abandon that air castle?" said her husband. "It was the only essay at match-making I ever caught you at."

"What is it, Laura?" inquired Carry, as her face brightened suddenly.

"I was thinking how strange we should have decorated the drawing-room with white roses, when we were not expecting a wedding!"

The news spread like wild-fire over the plantation. "Young Mistis was gwine to be married!" and never did tidings of a splendid victory produce a grander jubilee. The Grants, Miss Betsey, and Will, as sub-steward, had the programme of the performances and actors; but with the crowd, the Lacy and Dana factions ran high, to the amusement of the wise. Aunt Judy's climax was reported at the dinner-table by Miss Betsey, who must have shared in the general delirium of pleasure, as this is the only authentic record of her ever having spoken in "company," unless "spoken to."

"'Well!' says Aunt Judy—says she—'Dany or Lacy—they's both mighty fine, pretty-spoken gentlemen. Either on 'em 'll do; but it's been a-runnin' in my head what a mussiful Providence 'tis, hur husband happened along, jes' when the cake riz nicer than any I'se made since ole Marster's weddin! And young Mis' too—poor, lone, sweet cretur! ah, chillen! things is ordered wonderful! wonderful!'"

"Don't blush, Ida! laughing suits the occasion better," said Carry, as every mouth spread at this apropos anecdote; and she did laugh merrily, as well as Mr. Lacy, who had tried to control his risibles until he heard her.

Ellen Morris arrived that night, attended by her brother, and at a feminine council, which sat until midnight, in the room of the bride-elect, a list of attendants was drawn up—Emma and Charley, Laura and Mr. Latham, Ellen and Mr. Thornton, who, she said, was certainly coming next day,—and Miss Kingston, one of the neighbors, with Robert Morris.

"Aunt Judy may well say, 'things is ordered wonderful!'" said Emma. "Who thought of this, a week ago? and here everything is arranged, as if expressly for a marriage. 'Not a screw loose or lacking!'"

"Ida will say it is a 'special Providence,'" said Mrs. Dana, "but Mr. Lacy and Charley had a hand in it."

"Who moved them?" asked Ida. "Depend upon it, my theory is irrefutable, because true. If a delusion, it is harmless and pleasant."

"You would make puppets of us;" said Ellen. "Chessmen—irresponsible for their motions."

"No, indeed! We are children, obeying a Father's orders, no matter how enigmatical; and having done our part, letting Him work out the answer to the puzzle. A so-called ignorant woman once furnished the best definition of Faith I ever heard;—'taking the Lord at his word.' It is safer to believe, than to argue, Ellen."

Aunt Judy's aphorism was bandied about on Tuesday until it was hacknied. Ida feared the appearance of her "Bubly Jock;" but her prime counsellor, Will, his stalwart arms bared to the shoulder, to turn an ice-cream churn, said confidently, that "she nor Miss Laura should be pestered with him that evening. I've got his written bond to stay at home, and eat the supper that will be sent to him. Mars' Charley and Mr. Lacy's been to see him too. They came while I was there, 'on a sociable visit,' they said, but before they went away, he was crying like a child—they talked so beautiful!"

The bridal paraphernalia was laid in array, and Emma and Laura tying up bouquets; Ida directing, but not permitted to assist.

"Ellen cannot find that arbor-vitÆ surely!" said Emma. "I wish she had let me go!"

Ellen burst into the room, and flinging herself into a chair, laughed immoderately. "What has happened?" cried a trio of voices.

"The wheel of luck has turned! It is a 'wonderful ordering' that brings Josephine Read upon this, of all days in the year!"

"Josephine!" Ida seemed to behold a ghoul. She had invited her because propriety demanded she should not slight the daughter of her former guardian, after living in the house with her six years; then she was fond of Anna Talbot, and a separate invitation was not to be thought of. The possibility of her coming had not entered her mind. How could she present herself at the door of her, whom she had denounced as her mortal foe? Emma stood aghast, and Laura in bewilderment, at the dismay depicted in the faces of her friends.

"I am sorry for you, Ida," continued Ellen; "and if I were a magician, would whisk her off to Guinea in the time it would take me to say 'Presto!' but if you did not feel so badly, I would delight in her spiteful rage, when she knows that she has come to your wedding—and with Mr. Lacy! Oh! it is transporting!"

"Worse and worse!" said Ida, sorrowfully. "Unkind as she has been, I would not wound her; and she will never be persuaded that the insult was unpremeditated."

"'Insult!' forsooth! who is insulted, pray, but yourself, by the intrusion of a woman, who has reviled and backbitten you, until the town cried out against her evil tongue! Oh! the shamelessness of a wicked gossip!"

"Where is she?" questioned Ida.

"In the north chamber. Anna Talbot, Messrs. Thornton and Villet came with her."

"Charley said he asked them—and I am glad Anna is here—but oh! Josephine! and I am en dishabille! Emma, will you run up to them? you are at home."

"Willingly." The kind-hearted girl emptied her lap of the flowers.

"And explain everything," said Ida.

"Yes—make all right! Comfort yourself;" and away she flew.

Her face, upon her re-entrance, boded well for Ida's hopes.

"What did she say?" inquired the latter, anxiously.

"They were unpacking their trunks. Anna was very cordial—so was Josephine—for her. 'We concluded yesterday, to come up,' said Anna. 'Pa made a point of it, and Ida's letter was so kind and polite, that we finally determined to accept.'

"'And Mr. Thornton and M. Villet were so desirous to have some Richmond girls here;' said Josephine."

"Aha!" interrupted Ellen.

Emma continued. "Anna did not notice her remark. 'The maid tells me Ida is to be married;' she said, eagerly. 'What a trick she has played us!' 'The queerest part of the story is, that she is more surprised than any body else,' I answered—'They have not been engaged a week! You know the groom?'"

"'O yes! he is a noble fellow! I am rejoiced she is to marry him at last.'"

"And what did Josephine say to this?" asked the inquisitive Ellen. "You need not pretend you have told us all."

"Oh! nothing of consequence. She spoke very carelessly,—of his 'being nothing extra,' and 'she is welcome to him,' with no symptoms of unusual malice."

"Maybe she does not care now, having transferred her attentions to Mr. Thornton. That harp will hang upon the willow, too, or my name is not Ellen Morris!"

A note was handed Ida.

"'Ossa on Pelion piled!' from your countenance," said the volatile bridesmaid.

Ida read it aloud. "Villet is with Thornton. Will your plans undergo any alteration in consequence?

"M. L."

"Josephine is the loose screw, Emma spoke of. I would gladly add M. Villet and Anna to my train—"

"Do it, and let her fret!" exclaimed Ellen.

"Oh, no!" said Emma, involuntarily.

"I cannot!" said Ida. She wrote upon the reverse of the billet—"Unless you object, the original order will be preserved."

There were no happier beings present that evening, than the acting host and hostess, and Carry and Arthur.

"I had resigned myself to Ida's perpetual spinsterdom," said Carry to her schoolmates. "She rejected several good offers from no apparent cause; and I imagined she had a prejudice against matrimony."

"She was very indifferent upon the subject;" said Anna. "She was a mystery to many. But those deathless friendships between ladies and gentlemen, are always suspicious, and I predicted how this one would end."

"Charley is delighted;" said Carry.

"Is that surprising?" asked Josephine, with a dash of irony.

"Hush! Here they are!" said Anna.

The clergyman stepped into the centre of the room. The fourth couple entered first.

"Only six attendants!" whispered Josephine, as Charley appeared in the doorway. A freezing night shut her in! through it she saw but two forms—a princely figure, his Antinous head erect in proud happiness—and the hated, injured rival, to whose house, curiosity and vanity had tempted her—the bridal veil falling in soft wreaths about her;—his bride! his wife! for emulous groups flocked around them.

"Oh! how could you deceive me so?" cried Anna, catching Emma, as Charley led her up. "Mr. Dana! we thought you were the bridegroom! The servant said—'Mars' Charley Dana!' Didn't she, Josephine?"

The frozen lips thawed into a stiff "Yes."

"Ah! how foolish in me to forget that Molly espoused the 'Dana cause!'" said Emma.

"And you believed the mistress would imitate the maid's example, Miss Anna?" returned Charley. "Are you inconsolable that I am single yet?"

"No! overjoyed! A change has come over my desperate spirit, since I discovered my mistake. Come Josephine! we must congratulate them."

Josephine was immovable. "I never pay congratulations."

"For decency's sake!" Charley heard Anna say, angrily. "Don't get into one of your surly humors to-night! Very well! stay where you are!" and she walked off with M. Villet.

"That sigh—what is its interpretation?" asked Mr. Lacy, of Ida, as they were watching and enjoying the lively company, which had none of the stiffness usual to weddings.

"Did I sigh? it was in thought—not in sadness, then."

"So I hoped. What was the weighty reflection?"

"I was running over the bridals and bridal-parties I have attended—each marking some important epoch in my history. At Mrs. Truman's—Ellen's sister—I met Lynn, and gained an insight into Charley's character."

"Those were pleasant data. Carry's was next—was it not?"

His chosen wife though she was, she hung her head. He had to bend to hear the faint accents. "I received a letter from you!"

"You may forget that. Go on."

"Mr. Read installed his new wife, and Lelia Arnold was her bridesmaid. Must I forget her also?"

"As I do—yes!" an unclouded eye answering hers.

"Mrs. Morris had a party in honour of her nephew's marriage; and a series of events succeeded, which occasioned me vexation and trouble; but I was not the principal actor."

"And the secret of another, you are not empowered to reveal. Right! The next?"

"Is this!"

"Out of three of the five you have mentioned, disaster and sorrow have arisen. The proportion of joy in this woeful life is variously estimated, from two-fifths to two-thirds. So we do no violence to natural laws, in assuming this to be a white mile-stone."