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Max had no sooner departed, than Doctor Courtlandt
ordered his horse—preferring that conveyance to the more
comfortable sleigh—and took his way toward the Glades,
the note to Mr. Emberton in his pocket.

The Doctor's face betrayed much pain and anxiety.
That kind and affectionate heart was liable at all times
to be wounded through others, and now, when there was
imminent danger of a mortal encounter between the person
he was going to visit, and that other person most dear
to him in the world—that world from which had passed
successively so many who had been the light and joy of
his existence—Doctor Courtlandt's heart was full of gloom
and anxiety, and his brow overshadowed.

He was welcomed ceremoniously though with some
embarrassment, by Mr. Robert Emberton, and so was
ushered into the drawing-room.

“My sister is not at home, sir,” said Mr. Emberton,
striving to speak with his usual coolness and sang-froid,
but finding it excessively difficult to return calmly the
piercing glance of Doctor Courtlandt.

“Your sister?” said Doctor Courtlandt.

“Yes, sir; she is to-day out on a visit. mention it
because you generally call to see her rather than myself.”

“That is true,” said Doctor Courtlandt.

“I do not complain, sir,” replied Mr. Robert Emberton,
uneasily.

The Doctor looked at the young man long and fixedly.
Mr. Emberton was much embarrassed by this acute look,
and began to color.

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“Is my presence disagreeable?” asked the Doctor, in a
tone full of softness and courtesy.

“Disagreeable, sir! how could you think it?”

“You seemed put out.”

The young man blushed.

“I am out of sorts to-day, sir,” he replied, “you must
excuse me.”

“That is a polite speech; and I only find fault with it
because it is not very sincere,” replied Doctor Courtlandt.

“Not sincere, sir?”

“Not the whole truth, I mean.”

The clear glance again flashed to Mr. Robert Emberton
and embarrassed him.

“I am really out of sorts, as I said,” he replied.

“That is not the only cause for your absence of spirits
however—you who are generally so gay.”

“Well, no, sir; it is not,” said Mr. Emberton, in a
formal tone.

“Therefore you did not tell the whole truth—though
what you said was true. Mr. Emberton,” said Doctor
Courtlandt, rising and speaking in a noble and courteous
tone, “I find myself playing at cross purposes with you—
and I dislike cross purposes. I will therefore speak
more plainly, and say to you that I know of the hostile
message you have sent my son, and that I have been
much pained by it; very much pained by it.”

“It is not my fault, sir,” Mr. Emberton replied, in a
sombre voice.

“Still you sent it?”

“Mr. Courtlandt forced me to send it.”

“Forced you!—he so gentle, so observant of all the
courtesies of life?”

“I find no fault with his temper, sir, or his breeding;
though I had a very disagreeable specimen of them yesterday.”

“Max insult you!”

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“Yes, sir; an unmistakable insult.”

“For what reason?”

“An accident I was so unfortunate as to meet with
afforded him the occasion.”

“On your ride?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Doctor looked much pained.

“And you would kill him, or force him to kill you for
a hasty word?”

Mr. Emberton bent his head gloomily, making no reply.

“Young man,” said Doctor Courtlandt, “permit one
who has passed through more vicissitudes than most men,
and thus lived more than men do usually in forty years—
permit me to tell you that the man who rashly takes human
life, for a word, for a gesture, for a tone of the voice
too high or too low to suit him, that man commits a most
criminal and unchristian act. Your blood is hot with
youth—curb it; your eyes fill with anger at the very
glance of enmity—be calm! We live here but three
score years and ten at best; is it worth while to bicker,
and quarrel, and fight with your human brethren—your
brother worms?”

“For honor—yes, sir!”

“Honor! grand trumpet blast preluding all the wars
that have desolated the world! Honor, young sir, is a
great and invaluable treasure—the Christian gentleman
will guard it with his life. But this honor must be very
frail if it is endangered by an ill-humored word!”

“I might have passed by Mr. Courtlandt's harsh words,
sir,” murmured the young man, gloomily, and applying
to his particular case the general principle of his inter-locutor,
“but we are rivals! There is the word. It has
torn my breast—it is out!”

Doctor Courtlandt looked inexpressibly pained, and
pressed his hand upon his breast.

“Rivals!” he said mournfully.

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“Yes, sir; there is the cause of this thing which you
complain so of; not those trifling words he uttered.”

“And you both love Alice?”

“Alice, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Robert Emberton.

“Yes,” said the Doctor.

“Alice!” repeated Mr. Emberton, springing toward the
Doctor, “does your son love Alice—not Caroline?”

The Doctor looked at the young man curiously.

“I think so,” he said, “I never spy, under any circumstances;
and I ask no confidences.”

Mr. Emberton fell back gloomily, murmuring, “But
Caroline loves him.”

“There seems to be a misunderstanding here,” said the
Doctor, astonished, “and if you can not solve it, I can
not.”

“Could it be—” said Mr. Emberton, in profound thought.

“What?” asked Doctor Courtlandt.

“Could she all this time—”

“Who—what?” repeated the Doctor.

“Doctor Courtlandt,” said Mr. Emberton, suddenly,
“if you will be courteous enough to excuse me, I will
take the liberty of leaving you for a short time. I trust
you will pardon this very discourteous act—but I feel
that this moment is the turning point of my life. It makes
or mars me. There is my sister returning just in good
time, and Monsieur Pantoufle who accompanied her.
With your leave, sir, I shall expect to see you here on my
return.”

“Your return?” said the puzzled Doctor.

“Here is Josephine,” said Mr. Emberton; and scarcely
saying good-day to his sister, he left the hall, and ran to
the stable. He saddled his horse in a moment, mounted
and galloped at full speed toward the Parsonage.

In two hours Mr. Robert Emberton returned to the
Glades overwhelmed with joy—almost ecstatic in his
delight. He burst into the room where the three persons

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he had left were assembled, and running to his sister
saluted her with a hearty kiss.

“Do pray! what is the matter, Robert,” said Miss
Emberton, looking very pretty and good-humored.

“Behold one who will soon be a married man!” cried
Mr. Robert Emberton, “a reformed Benedick, a most
respectable individual of the married species, my dear
Miss Josephine! You must excuse my extravagance,
Doctor,” continued the young man turning to Doctor
Courtlandt, with some color, “but I am so completely
happy that my habitual spirits have been exaggerated
into boisterous hilarity. And in the first place please to
consider the foolish note I wrote to—you know, sir—consider
it burned.”

“What note—to whom—and what in the world does
all this mean?” cried Miss Emberton, amazed.

Explanation upon all points ensued, but with these
explanations we will not trouble the reader; simply
tracing the main events of the day.

Mr. Robert Emberton, first gaining Mrs. Courtlandt's
consent, had with the bluntness of despair come directly
to the point with Miss Caroline, and the result was
precisely what the reader has no doubt anticipated. The
cap was most assuredly for him, and Caroline for once
lost her wit and humor, and did not talk brilliantly at
all. But there is reason to suppose that her lover was
not in the least displeased with this circumstance, but
when she murmured, blushing radiantly, “My ear-rings!
my ear-rings!” liked her all the better for her charming
and novel confusion.

Doctor Courtlandt was sincerely pleased, and this satisfaction
caused Mr. Robert Emberton very nearly to embrace
that gentleman. After those thousand exhausting
emotions the Doctor returned placidly home, thinking of
his son who was borne every moment further from him.
Was he to meet with such a happy issue too?

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