"
"Ill wager any money," cried my father, "he has fallen in love again with
some old lady at a window!"
"Oh, no!" cried my dear sister Sophy, with the most gracious warmth; "she
is young and beautiful."
"From what I understand," said Glencoe, rousing himself, "she must be
lovely in mind as in person."
I found my friends were getting me into a fine scrape. I began to perspire
at every pore, and felt my ears tingle.
"Well, but," cried my father, "who is she?--what is she? Let us hear
something about her."
This was no time to explain so delicate a matter. I caught up my hat, and
vanished out of the house.
The moment I was in the open air, and alone, my heart upbraided me. Was
this respectful treatment to my father--to _such_ a father, too--who
had always regarded me as the pride of his age--the staff of his hopes? It
is true, he was apt sometimes to laugh at my enthusiastic flights, and did
not treat my philosophy with due respect; but when had he ever thwarted a
wish of my heart? Was I then to act with reserve toward him, in a matter
which might affect the whole current of my future life? "I have done
wrong," thought I; "but it is not too late to remedy it.
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