"It may be that Mrs. Rocke does not want me for a daughter-in-law," said Clara, archly, as she approached and put her hand in that of Marah.
"Not want you, my own darling!" said Marah Rocke, putting her arm around Clara's waist, and drawing her to her bosom, "not want you! You know I am just as much in love with you as Traverse himself can be! And I have longed for you, my sweet, longed for you as an unattainable blessing, ever since that day when Traverse first left us, and you came and laid your bright head on my bosom and wept with me!"
"And now if we must cry a little when Traverse leaves us, we can go and take comfort in being miserable together, with a better understanding of our relations!" said Clara with an arch smile.
"Where are you all? Where is everybody--that I am left wandering about the lonely house like a poor ghost in Hades?" said the doctor's cheerful voice in the passage without.
"Here, father--here we are--a family party, wanting only you to complete it," answered his daughter, springing to meet him.
The doctor came in smiling, pressed his daughter to his bosom, shook Traverse cordially by the hand, and kissed Marah Rocke's cheek. That was his way of congratulating himself and all others on the betrothal.
The evening was passed in unalloyed happiness.
Let them enjoy it! It was their last of comfort--that bright evening!
Over that household was already gathering a cloud heavy and dark with calamity--calamity that must have overwhelmed the stability of any faith which was not as theirs was--stayed upon God.