“Very well—­that will do, Bacchus,” said Mr. Weston, who felt anxious to enjoy the society of his friend.

“Good evenin to you all,” said Bacchus, retreating with many bows.

We will see how Bacchus kept his word, and for the present leave Mr. Weston to discuss the subjects of the day with his guest; while the ladies paid a visit to Aunt Peggy, and listened to her complaints of “the flies and the little niggers,” and the thousand and one ailings that belong to the age of ninety years.

CHAPTER II.

“You rode too far this afternoon, Alice, you seem to be very tired,” said Mr. Weston.

“No, dear uncle, I am not fatigued; the wind was cold, and it makes me feel stupid.”

“Why did not Walter come in?” asked Mr. Weston.  “I saw him returning with you by the old road.”

“He said he had an engagement this evening,” replied Alice, as she raised her head from her uncle’s shoulder.

“Poor Walter!” said Cousin Janet; “with the education and habits of a gentleman, he is to be pitied that it is only as a favor he is received, among those with whom he may justly consider himself on an equality.”

“But is not Walter our equal?” asked Alice.  Cousin Janet held her knitting close to her eyes to look for a dropped stitch, while Mr. Weston replied for her: 

“My love, you know, probably, that Walter is not an equal by right of birth to those whose parents held a fair and honorable position in society.  His father, a man of rare talents, of fascinating appearance, and winning address, was the ruin of all connected with him. (Even his mother, broken-hearted by his career of extravagance and dissipation, found rest in the termination of a life that had known no rest.) His first wife, (not Walter’s mother,) a most interesting woman, was divorced from him by an unjust decision of the law, for after her death circumstances transpired that clearly proved her innocence.  Walter’s mother was not married, as far as is known; though some believe she was, and that she concealed it in consequence of the wishes and threats of Mr. Lee, who was ashamed to own the daughter of a tradesman for his wife.”

“But all this is not Walter’s fault, uncle,” said Alice.

“Assuredly not; but there is something due to our long established opinions.  Walter should go to a new country, where these things are not known, and where his education and talents would advance him.  Here they are too fresh in the memory of many.  Yet do I feel most kindly towards him, though he rather repels the interest we take in him by his haughty coldness of manner.  The attachment between him and my son from their infancy draws me towards him.  Arthur writes, though, that his letters are very reserved and not frequent.  What can be the meaning of it?”

“There was always a want of candor and generosity in Walter’s disposition,” remarked Alice’s mother.