day afternoon, a custom which Ernest also observed, so that was a joyous night at Orange Grove.
Mrs. Claremont enjoyed it, Walter enjoyed it, and a stranger looking on must have enjoyed the sight of so much happiness. It is seldom we see three young men associated, of such interesting appearance, pure and refined tastes as Ernest, James and Walter. One must feel sure in looking at them and reading their frank, honest countenances, that if either of them committed an error, it was the fault of the head and not of the heart.
Those were halcyon days to all the parties,—days which came back to the memory like the golden tinge of sunset on the fleecy cloud after the fervid glow of the noontide heat. Like all other days these must have an end, and this soft, summer hour of twilight give way to the reality of earnestness with which we must enter the arena of life and accept both its sunshine and its shadows. The wedding day arrived. There was no invited guest save Ernest, and all went on quietly and serenely as that smiling summer day.
