Very pleasant was the reception Jeanette Roland gave Mr. Romaine. There was no reproof upon her lips nor implied censure in her manner. True he had been disguised by liquor or to use a softer phrase, had taken too much wine. But others had done the same and treated it as a merry escapade, and why should she be so particular? Belle Gordon would have acted very differently but then she was not Belle, and in this instance she did not wish to imitate her. Belle was so odd, and had become very unpopular, and besides she wished to be very very pleasant to Mr. Romaine. He was handsome, agreeable and wealthy, and she found it more congenial to her taste to clasp hands with him and float down stream together, than help him breast the current of his wrong tendencies, and stand firmly on the rock of principle.

“You are looking very sweet, but rather pensive this morning,” said Mr. Romaine, noticing a shadow on the bright and beautiful face of Jeanette, whose color had deepened by the plain remarks of her cousin Belle. “What is the matter?”

“Oh nothing much, only my cousin Belle has been here this morning, and she has been putting me on the stool of repentance.”

“Why! what have you been doing that was naughty?”

“Oh! she was perfectly horror-stricken when I told her about the wine we drank and Mrs. Glossop’s party. I wish I had not said a word to her about it.”

“What did she say?”

“Oh she thought it was awful, the way we were going on. She made me feel that I died [sic] something dreadful when I offered you a glass of wine at Ma’s silver wedding. I don’t believe Belle ever sees a glass of wine, without thinking of murder, suicide and a drunkard’s grave.”

“But we are not afraid of those dreadful things, are we Jeanette?”

“Of course not, but somehow Belle always makes me feel uncomfortable, when she begins to talk on temperance. She says she is terribly in earnest, and I think she is.”

“Miss Gordon and I were great friends once,” said Charles Romaine, as a shadow flitted over his face, and a slight sigh escaped his lips.

“Were you? Why didn’t you remain so?”

“Because she was too good for me.”

“That is a very sorry reason.”

“But it is true. I think Miss Gordon is an excellent young lady, but she and I wouldn’t agree on the temperance question. The man who marries her has got to toe the mark. She ought to be a minister’s wife.”

“I expect she will be an old maid.”

“I don’t know, but if I were to marry her, I should prepare myself to go to Church every Sunday morning and to stay home in the afternoon and repeat my catechism.”

“I would like to see you under her discipline.”

“It would come hard on a fellow, but I might go farther and fare worse.”

“And so you and Belle were great friends, once?”

“Yes, but as we could not agree on the total abstinence question, we parted company.”

“How so? Did you part as lovers part?”

She with a wronged and broken heart?
And you, rejoicing you were free,
Glad to regain you liberty?

“Not at all. She gave me the mitten and I had to take it.”

“Were you very sorry?”

“Yes, till I met you.”

“Oh! Mr. Romaine,” said Jeanette blushing and dropping her eyes.

“Why not? I think I have found in your society an ample compensation for the loss of Miss Gordon.”

“But I think Belle is better than I am. I sometimes wish I was half so good.”

“You are good enough for me; Belle is very good, but somehow her goodness makes a fellow uncomfortable. She is what I call distressingly good; one doesn’t want to be treated like a wild beast in a menagerie, and to be every now and then stirred up with a long stick.”

“What a comparison!”

“Well it is a fact; when a fellow’s been busy all day pouring over Coke and Blackstone, or casting up wearisome rows of figures, and seeks a young lady’s society in the evening, he wants to enjoy himself, to bathe in the sunshine of her smiles, and not to be lectured about his shortcomings. I tell you, Jeanette, it comes hard on a fellow.”

“You want some one to smooth the wrinkles out of the brow of care, and not to add fresh ones.”

“Yes, and I hope it will be my fortune to have a fair soft hand like his,” said Mr. Romaine, slightly pressing Jeanette’s hand to perform the welcome and agreeable task.

“Belle’s hand would be firmer than mine for the talk.”

“It is not the strong hand, but the tender hand I want in a woman.”

“But Belle is very kind; she did it all for your own good.”

“Of course she did; my father used to say so when I was a boy, and he corrected me; but it didn’t make me enjoy the correction.”

“It is said our best friends are those who show us our faults, and teach us how to correct them.”

“My best friend is a dear, sweet girl who sits by my side, who always welcomes me with a smile, and beguiles me so with her conversation, that I take no note of the hours until the striking of the clock warns me it is time to leave; and I should ask no higher happiness than to be permitted to pass all the remaining hours of my life at her side. Can I dare to hope for such a happy fortune?”

A bright flush overspread the cheek of Jeanette Roland; there was a sparkle of joy in her eyes as she seemed intently examining the flowers on her mother’s carpet, and she gently referred him to Papa for an answer. In due time Mr. Roland was interviewed, his consent obtained, and Jeanette Roland and Charles Romaine were affianced lovers.

“Girls, have you heard the news?” said Miss Tabitha Jones, a pleasant and wealthy spinster, to a number of young girls who were seated at her tea table.

“No! what is it?”

“I hear Mr. Romaine is to be married next spring.”

“To whom?”

“Jeanette Roland.”

“Well! I do declare; I thought he was engaged to Belle Gordon.”

“I thought so too, but it is said that she refused him, but I don’t believe it; I don’t believe that she had a chance.”

“Well I do.”

“Why did she refuse him?”

“Because he would occasionally take too much wine.”

“But he is not a drunkard.”

“But she dreads that he will be.”

“Well! I think it is perfectly ridiculous. I gave Belle credit for more common sense. I think he was one of the most eligible gentlemen in our set. Wealthy, handsome and agreeable. What could have possessed Belle? I think he is perfectly splendid.”

“Yes said another girl, I think Belle stood very much in her own light. She is not rich, and if she would marry him she could have everything heart could wish. What a silly girl! You wouldn’t catch me throwing away such a chance.”

“I think,” said Miss Tabitha, “that instead of Miss Gordon’s being a silly girl, that she has acted both sensibly and honorably in refusing to marry a man she could not love. No woman should give her hand where she cannot yield her heart.”

“But Miss Tabitha, the strangest thing to me is, that I really believe that Belle Gordon cares more for Mr. Romaine than she does for any one else; her face was a perfect study that night at Mrs. Roland’s party.”

“How so?”

“They say that after Miss Gordon requested Mr. Romaine, that for a while he scrupulously abstained from taking even a glass of wine. At several entertainments, he adhered to this purpose but on the evening of Mrs. Roland’s silver wedding Jeanette succeeded in persuading him to take a glass, in honor of the occasion. I watched Belle’s face and it was a perfect study, every nerve seemed quivering with intense anxiety. Once I think she reached out her hand unconsciously as if to snatch away the glass, and when at last he yielded I saw the light fade from her eyes, a deadly pallor overspread her cheek, and I thought at one time she was about to faint, but she did not, and only laid her head upon her side as if to allay a sudden spasm of agony.”