patiently she had plied the needle over the traced lines of the
pattern! how industriously she had labored through the dreary
winter days! and all for my sake! What words could tell my pride,
my gratitude, my happiness?

I too forgot the presence of the Sibyl bending over her book. I
took the little workwoman in my arms, and kissed her till I was
fairly out of breath and could kiss no longer.

"Mary!" I burst out, in the first heat of my enthusiasm, "my
father is coming home to-day. I will speak to him to-night. And I
will marry you to-morrow!"

"Boy!" said the awful voice at the other end of the room. "Come
here."

Dame Dermody's mystic book was closed; Dame Dermody's weird black
eyes were watching us in our corner. I approached her; and Mary
followed me timidly, by a footstep at a time.

The Sibyl took me by the hand, with a caressing gentleness which
was new in my experience of her.

"Do you prize that toy?" she inquired, looking at the flag. "Hide
it!" she cried, before I could answer. "Hide it--or it may be
taken from you!"

"Why should I hide it?" I asked. "I want to fly it at the mast of
my boat."

"You will never fly it at the mast of your boat!" With that
answer she took the flag from me and thrust it impatiently into
the breast-pocket of my jacket.

"Don't crumple it, grandmother!" said Mary, piteously.

I repeated my question:

"Why shall I never fly it at the mast of my boat?"

Dame Dermody laid her hand on the closed volume of Swedenborg
lying in her lap.

"Three times I have opened this book since the morning," she
said. "Three times the words of the prophet warn me that there is
trouble coming. Children, it is trouble that is coming to You. I
look there," she went on, pointing to the place where a ray of
sunlight poured slanting into the room, "and I see my husband in
the heavenly light. He bows his head in grief, and he points his
unerring hand at You. George and Mary, you are consecrated to
each other! Be always worthy of your consecration; be always
worthy of yourselves." She paused. Her voice faltered. She looked
at us with softening eyes, as those look who know sadly that
there is a parting at hand. "Kneel!" she said, in low tones of
awe and grief. "It may be the last time I bless you--it may be
the last time I pray over you, in this house. Kneel!"

We knelt close together at her feet. I could feel Mary's heart
throbbing, as she pressed nearer and nearer to my side. I could
feel my own heart quickening its beat, with a fear that was a
mystery to me.

"God bless and keep George and Mary, here and hereafter! God
prosper, in future days, the union which God's wisdom has willed!
Amen. So be it. Amen."

As the last words fell from her lips the cottage door was thrust
open. My father--followed by the bailiff--entered the room.

Dame Dermody got slowly on her feet, and looked at him with a
stern scrutiny.

"It has come," she said to herself. "It looks with the eyes--it
will speak with the voice--of that man."

My father broke the silence that followed, addressing himself to
the bailiff.

"You see, Dermody," he said, "here is my son in your
cottage--when he ought to be in my house." He turned, and looked
at me as I stood with my arm round little Mary, patiently waiting
for my opportunity to speak. "George," he said, with the hard
smile which was peculiar to him, when he was angry and was trying
to hide it, "you are making a fool of yourself there. Leave that
child, and come to me."

Now, or never, was my time to declare myself. Judging by
appearances, I was still a boy. Judging by my own sensations, I
had developed into a man at a moment's notice.

"Papa," I said, "I am glad to see you home again. This is Mary
Dermody. I am in love with her, and she is in love with me. I
wish to marry her as soon as it is convenient to my mother and
you."

My father burst out laughing. Before I could speak again, his
humor changed. He had observed that Dermody, too, presumed to be
amused. He seemed to become mad with anger, all in a moment.

"I have been told of this infernal tomfoolery," he said, "but I


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