CHAPTER I.

“Tut-tut-tut! don’t tell me ‘_it means nothing_,’ Sara,” said my uncle Waldron, as he assumed quite an air of resentment, and seized in his hand a cluster of cousin Sara’s beautiful ringlets, school-master fashion, as if about to “pull her hair” for some just discovered mischief.

“Why uncle!” expostulated Sara, looking up in his face, with a smile that would have melted an iceberg, so warm and sunny was it—much more did it melt the feigned frown on the brow of my bachelor uncle—“do let me assure you”—

“I don’t _want_ any assurances niece—what need has a man of assurances when he sees with his own eyes, especially if he has as much reason for confidence in his visual organs as I have in _mine_,” smilingly retorted uncle Theodore. “Don’t I catch him here most provokingly often? and is there not such a commerce in books between you, as would justify the suspicion that I have not a library of five thousand volumes, of all sorts of books, in all sorts of languages, both living and dead, besides shares in I know not how many circulating libraries”—

“But uncle,” I interposed, “you must remember that Mr. Greydon is the _minister_, and he comes to make cousin Sara _pastoral calls_, and to impart spiritual counsel—” I left my apology unfinished, for I was obliged to stop and laugh at its mis-placed sanctimony.

“Yes, yes, yes, miss!” replied uncle The., fairly driven into one of his merriest laughs—“and by all means his ‘spiritual’ what-did-you-call-it, must be communicated in _German_—no medium but _German_ now—a little while ago nothing but _French_—by and by it will be hocus-pocus, or some other such gibberish!”

“Dear uncle,” interrupted poor blushing Sara, “I’m _studying_ German, and Mr. Greydon is so kind as to give me two lessons a week, out of his very valuable time.”

“Fol-de-rol, every word of it—if you wanted a German teacher, why didn’t I ever hear of it, so I could have procured a genuine imported one. But suppose he does come _twice_ a week to give you a lesson, he comes the _other_ twice to—_what_, Sara? Help get it?” And Sara, finding herself circumvented on that track, blushed redder, and uncle Waldron laughed merrier than ever.

My other apology for the frequency of Mr. Greydon’s visits, was so nearly a failure, I concluded this time, _silence_ was the “better part of valor,” so I left cousin Sara, to her own extrications from the cross-examinations of a wily old lawyer. As soon as she could make herself heard above uncle’s successive peals of merriment, she said, rather imploringly—

“Why, uncle Waldron, don’t make so much sport of me. You know I am so much alone—I am sure I think Mr. Greydon is very kind.”

“Yes, yes, niece—very kind, indeed—I see. ‘_Alone_ so much,’ did you say? How comes that, pray? Isn’t here Maria, and isn’t she company enough? You pay my guest but a wretched compliment, putting her society down as nothing.”

“O no, no, uncle,” said Sara, “I don’t mean _that_—indeed you are too wicked to-night. Maria knows how truly I value her society. But she is here only very little—didn’t I stay all winter alone, when you kept promising me a cousin or friend to stay with me?”

“Well, well, uncle,” said I, “there is one thing for your assurance—cousin Sara has repeatedly declared she would not marry a clergyman!”

“That’s what she has—Sara,” said uncle Theodore, looking rather equivocally in her face, as if he were prepared to overturn whatever she might depose, “do you hold of that mind still?”

“Certainly, sir,” responded Sara, with some ill-concealed hesitation, and not a little confusion, “I am not wont to vacillate much in my opinions.”

“And you make a life-long bargain with me to retain your post as my house-keeper, in presence of cousin Maria as witness, do you?”

“Yes, sir, unless you release me some time, at your pleasure.”

“You are a noble girl, Sara, darling—I’ll buy you that Arabian to-morrow, and you shall have a groom on purpose to attend him;” and my uncle laid his hand tenderly on cousin Sara’s beautiful head, in token of his satisfaction.

By this time it was his stated hour for retiring—he took the “big ha’ Bible” from its place, reverently read a holy psalm, and then commending his household to the care of an Almighty Protector, in a low and fervent prayer, he bade us good night, and left the drawing room.