A II U N TER'S LIFE. 71 



Mary and I kept on till we drew near her home ; when we 

 seated ourselves on a fallen tree by the roadside, and spent 

 what we both thought and acknowledged was far too short 

 a time in which to say all we wished. 



When the old lady came up to us, I told her that I 

 would have been better pleased if she had made her stay 

 with my aunt a little longer — Mary having informed me 

 (hat her mother was truly ray friend, but that her father 

 was much displeased at ray return. Mrs. McMullen smiled, 

 and asked why so. I told her that Mary and I had suf- 

 ficient to say to each other to occupy another hour. 



" Well," said the old woman, " you can both go back to 

 the house instead of sitting in the road, and there spend 

 an hour or two ; but be sure not to stay till sundown." 



I pledged myself that I would see her daughter home 

 before sunset. 



We were both pleased — at any rate, I knew that I was, 

 and I had good reason to believe that Mary was ; for, as 

 her mother walked away, I said to her, " What a blessed 

 old lady she is, to let rae have such a splendid chance to 

 court her daughter, at the very moment when I expected 

 her to take you off home with her ! " 



" That seems to be the case with all the men, I believe ; 

 every one is for his own interest. But I can tell you that 

 my mother has all confidence in you ; and I don't believe 

 she would have given any other young man living but 

 yourself the same privilege with me ; but if father knew 

 I was here in your company, I don't know what he would 

 do, or what I should say ; for he is determined to keep u9 

 as far from each other as he can. Mother and he disagree 

 about you ; and she tells him that if he drives you away 

 he will not better himself in this neighborhood. Is it not 

 strange, Meshach. that he is afraid of what we never spoke 

 to each othe about, and, indeed, what we are both too 

 youug to think of doing ? " 



