"Quick, Emeline, or we shall lose the train!"
The enamoured couple were soon seated beside each other, and whirling away to Providence. The lady said little, but sat with downcast head and veiled face, apparently overwhelmed with confusion at the step she had taken. But it was enough for young Dovekin to know she was beside him, and he poured forth an unbroken stream of delicious nonsense, till the train arrived at its destination.
In the station house the lady lifted her veil. Horror and confusion! It was the aunt! The obliging young man had delivered the wrong letter.
"Yes, sir," said Miss Brown, "I am the person whom you qualified, in your letter intended for my niece, as a 'hateful hag, in whose eyes you were throwing dust'. What do you say to that, sir?"
"Say!" replied the disconsolate Dovekin. "It's no use to say any thing; for it is my settled purpose to spring over the parapet of the railroad bridge and seek oblivion in a watery grave. But first, if I could find that obliging young man, I'd be the death of him."
"No you wouldn't," said the voice of that interesting individual, as he made his appearance with a lady on his arm. "Here she is—take her—be happy. After I'd given the notes, mind misgave me—went back to the house—found the aunt gone—niece in tears—followed after—same train—last car—here she is!"
"I hope this will be a lesson," said Dovekin.
"So it is. Henceforth, I shall mind my own business; for every thing I've undertaken lately, on other folks' account, has gone amiss. Come, aunty, give your blessing—let 'em go. Train ready—I'm off—best of wishes—good by. Cars ready for Boston and way stations!—all aboard."
The aunt gave her blessing; and this was the last that any of the party saw of the Obliging Young Man.