No; there are things I
can't discuss with you. What I want of you is to be patient, and obey." "You--all of you--treat me like a child," broke in Helen, reproachfully. "And so you are," retorted her mother; "therefore take advice. The
feeling that the world calls _love_--love, I say, that speaks not of
marriage is denounced as _sin_ by the laws of God and man." "Well, that's strange," mused Helen. "Then, one may not love a friend, a
parent, a child, without marrying them?" "I have no time to quibble," replied her mother, with some asperity,
"but would simply remark that whatever your feelings may be towards Mr.
McGuilp, or his towards _you_, nothing but harm and unhappiness can be
the lot of you both--without marriage. Now, you can't well expect a rich
gentleman like Mr. McGuilp to displease all his friends by marrying a
penniless girl like yourself--country bred, without education, who knows
nothing of the world and society, when he could marry some high-born
lady out of his own class--some rich heiress, educated and accomplished,
who would grace the society to which he belongs. He might be a great man
in the county, and enter Parliament, with such a wife, while you would
only drag him down to your level." Helen had already hidden her face in her hands, and her bare shoulders
heaved convulsively, while the hot tears trickled through her fingers. "Cease, mother! Oh! cease, in pity!" she cried. "I cannot bear it." Her anguish would have wrung the heart of a stone, and her parent being
a really tender-hearted woman, deeply sympathised with her daughter,
though she felt it her duty to be firm, "For what could it all end in?" she argued. At this juncture, the voice of our host was heard at the bottom of the
staircase calling out, "Molly, my dear! Mr. McGuilp wants to speak to
you." "In one moment, Jack," answered his spouse. Then to her daughter, "Dry
your eyes, my girl. Bathe your face and follow me. Mr. McGuilp doubtless
wants to see you. You have much to thank him for, and do it with grace,
but mind what I have said." With this parting admonition she left the room and hurried downstairs,
whilst Helen deftly finished her toilet, and with one last look at the
glass to ascertain that her eyes bore no traces of weeping, she was
preparing to descend the stairs, when her attention was attracted by
sounds from below that she was at a loss to account for. There was a
jumble of human voices, but above them all was the voice of her mother,
now screaming, now half laughing and half crying, whilst that of Dr.
Bleedem was heard giving orders to her father, and all seemed bustle and
confusion. Dame Hearty was in hysterics. *       *       *       *       *

"And you really do mean it, Mr. McGuilp?" asked, in a sweet voice, a
bright-faced country girl of eighteen summers of a slim young man in the
garb of a gentleman, who followed her through the narrow mossy pathway
of a wood adjacent to the inn at the cross roads. "Mean it, my angel! Why, of course I do, and feel proud at the very
thought of you being all my own. Only don't call me any more 'Mr. McGuilp,' or 'Sir.' It hurts my feelings. Call me 'Van'--just 'Van' as
my friends and relatives have ever called me." "Van, let it be then," quoth the maiden, "_dear_ Van, my own sweet love
for ever and ever! Oh! Van, you _have_ made me so happy! And my parents,
how you must have surprised them when you told them! Poor mother! No
wonder she went into highstrikes!" "Hysterics," corrected her lover. "Well, that's what they call them here," answered the girl; "but you
will correct me every time I make a mistake, won't you Van?" "With pleasure, dearest," replied her suitor. "And nothing can ever come between us now? Nothing can part us?" "Nothing but death," was the reply. A shade of sadness passed momentarily over the girl's features as she
asked, "Must it all end with that?" "Death ends everything," replied the young man: "that is to say,
everything earthly." "Then is there _no_ love beyond the grave?" asked Helen. "Oh! let us hope so," responded our artist. "I, for one, have the very
strongest persuasion that there is. Love such as ours is not merely of
earth." "Dear, _dear_ Van!" cried the maiden, in ecstasy, "I will believe all
you tell me. _I_ know nothing, but I _feel_ you are right. Yes, we shall
still continue to love even beyond the grave. Oh! Van, how have I
deserved all this happiness?" "Your sweetness, your goodness, your beauty, your love, amply
counterpoise anything _I_ can give you, my angel," said her lover. "How kind you are to talk like that Van! How you _must_ love me to go
against the wishes of your friends and leave everything and everybody
for me!" exclaimed the girl. Then added, "You are _quite_ sure that you
won't be ashamed of me before all the grand people you will meet? That
you will be able to pardon any little slip of the tongue, my country
manners, and everything else?" "Everything, everything, dear. Besides, your education will begin from
to-day. You will improve yourself in the arts of reading and writing. Learn grammar, history, geography, and other things. I will have you
well taught at once, whilst I am away in town to make preparations for
our wedding. I must go about the licence, and through other formalities;
buy the wedding-ring; your dress--for, of course, as _my_ wife, you must
now dress as beseems a lady, and leave off this simple garb; and yet it
seems a pity, for I have always known you thus. Still, for the sake of
public opinion--to avoid misunderstanding----"

"I care nothing about all that," broke in Helen. "No, my darling; not yet. You do not understand. But in time you will
find that you have to." "Well, I will do anything to please you, Van." "My own darling!" said her lover, encircling his arm around her waist. Well, my readers, and if their lips _did_ meet; what of it? It is a way
that lips have under the circumstances. *       *       *       *       *

"And now, gentlemen, and members of the Wonder Club, let me introduce
you to the future Mrs. Vandyke McGuilp," said our artist, on his return
from his walk, as he entered the club room, leading his fiancée by the
hand. Taken completely by surprise, each member rose from his chair, bowed,
smiled, and offered his congratulations. Mr. Oldstone was particularly
moist on this occasion. "Oh! my dear boy, how I congratulate you; and you too, my pretty child! Bless you, my children, both!" Then he took out his handkerchief and mopped his eyes. "Dear me, what an old fool I am!" he muttered, in parenthesis. Chairs were immediately placed for the engaged couple, amid boisterous
cheering and banter from all the members of the club at once, whilst the
bride elect laughed, blushed, and looked very happy. The father and
mother of the bride next entered, and joined in the general hubbub. Of course, this was too great an event not to be celebrated with all due
honours.