"If he shouldn't be there," Fleda interrupted, "there will be no harm done." "Forever?" Owen gasped.!

"To the smallest snuff-box. The last load went yesterday. The same people did it. Poor little Ricks is empty." Then as if, for a crowning splendor, to check all deprecation, "They're yours, you goose!" Mrs. Gereth concluded, holding up her handsome head and rubbing her white hands. Fleda saw that there were tears in her deep eyes. "It's very great; everybody thinks so; there must be something in it. It operated as it had operated before. There's no need of imagining anything very monstrous. Her restored good humor, her splendid beauty, and Mr. Owen's impressibility and generosity sufficiently cover the ground. His great bright sun came out!"

"You'll last quite as long—" Here Fleda suddenly hesitated. "Yesterday." "The maiden aunt's, the nicest, the dearest old woman that ever lived? I thought you had got rid of the maiden aunt."