THE STORM BREAKS.
Jessie's moods were sufficiently variable and perplexing to cause me serious uneasiness, but I had no suspicion of what was in her mind when she spoke of uncle Bryan and his religious opinions, or I should have used my strongest efforts to avert the storm. Even when she made her first open move, which she did on the evening of the same day on which we had the conversation just recorded, I did not suspect her; truth to tell, my mind at that time was almost completely occupied by one theme--the locket which Jessie had given me, and its significance. As a charm, it was most potent in its power of bringing happiness to the wearer; I felt that while this locket was in my possession, it would be impossible for a cloud to shadow my life. But clouds came all too quickly.
We were sitting together in the evening, in the most amicable of moods. Suddenly Jessie addressed uncle Bryan.
'Uncle Bryan, who teaches the young?'
He looked inquiringly at her.
'Well,' she continued, understanding that an explanation was expected of her, 'one has to learn things; knowledge doesn't come of itself.'
'Assuredly not,' he said, with evident pleasure and curiosity; 'even parent birds teach their brood the use of their wings, and how to build their nests.'
'I did not know that; but it is of men and women I am speaking. They are higher than birds and beasts.'
'Yes,' he said, in a reflective tone; 'it is so.'
'If the world were filled with nothing but old people, I wonder what sort of a world it would be!'