smiling almost frankly, he stepped forward and offered his hand. It was immediately clasped in that of his relative, and the reconciliation was apparently cordial on both sides.
"The affront," continued Hargrave, turning to me, "owed half its bitterness to the fact of its being offered in your presence; and since you bid me forgive it, I will—and forget it too."
"I guess the best return I can make, will be to take myself off," muttered Hattersley, with a broad grin. His companion smiled; and he left the room. This put me on my guard. Mr. Hargrave turned seriously to me, and earnestly began—
"Dear Mrs. Huntingdon, how I have longed for, yet dreaded this hour! Do not be alarmed," he added, for my face was crimson with anger; "I am not about to offend you with any useless entreaties or complaints. I am not going to presume to trouble you with the mention of my own feelings or your perfections, but I have
