"My dear Grace, you alarm me. I never supposed you entertained such quixotic notions. Some day we may have you eloping with a dry-goods clerk, or a poverty-stricken artist, or——"
"Don't borrow trouble, Aunt Caroline," said the young lady, with a merry laugh. "You don't get rid of me so easily. It is possible, of course, that I may fulfill your prediction, for I have money enough to enable my future husband to live respectably; but I'll give you fair warning and sufficient notice. But I must go down, or the major will be getting impatient."
Descending to the drawing-room, Grace saluted courteously a gentleman who rose from a sofa, and advanced to meet her with considerable empressement of manner.
"You are very kind to consent to see me, Miss Dearborn," he said.
"Oh, no," answered Grace, smiling. "I should have been unkind to decline, since I have no good reason for doing so."
"At any rate, suffer me to interpret it as kind, since it pleases me to do so. You do not know how much I attach to it in the present instance."
A slight shade of dissatisfaction flitted over the face of Miss Dearborn, for the words and manner of her visitor clearly pointed to a declaration of love, which she wished to avoid, if possible.
She was not like some young ladies in society, desirous of extending the list of her conquests.
"Thank you, Major Ashton," she answered, lightly, "but compliments are more in place in the ballroom."
"I do not mean it as a compliment, Miss Dearborn. Compliments are often insincere. I beg you to believe that I am sincere."