EVER since Mrs. Gaston had called attention to the fact that Alan Decourcy had a habit of watching her, Margaret had been conscious that it was really the case. He always listened when she , applauding by looks and smiles when her sentiments pleased him, and looking annoyed and disappointed when they did not. She could not help seeing that he was studying her with a deliberateness she felt somewhat inclined to resent.  
It was hard to cherish any feeling of against him, however, during that pleasant week in Baltimore, for he was kindness itself, contributing in every possible way to her comfort and . Every night there was something pleasant going on, and Alan was always at hand, to act as escort, if no one else held the place. Margaret was delighted with Baltimore, and when she expressed herself to this effect, Mr. Decourcy showed such manifest approval of the sentiment that she half regretted it the next minute. She was beginning to feel a little disconcerted by certain signs she saw in Alan.
 
This young lady got so much pleasure and entertainment out of everything, that it often surprised her to catch glimpses of a carefully in the expression of her cousin’s guarded .
 
“I should not like to be as as you are, Alan,” she said to him one day. “You’ve seen and done pretty much everything, I suppose, and nothing has any particular for you now.”
 
“You audacious young fledgeling!” exclaimed her cousin. “How dare you make me out such a blasé old fellow? How old am I, do you suppose?”
 
“I really don’t quite know.”
 
“I am just barely thirty-three—not yet!”
 
“About three years older than Mr. Gaston!” said Margaret, reflectively.
 
“I can’t understand the inflection of your voice,” said Alan, rather eagerly; “do I seem that much older than he?”
 
“I hardly know,” answered Margaret, still in the same thoughtful tone. “Mr. Gaston is such a busy man that he bears the impress of cares and responsibilities, and that makes him seem older; but in his feelings he seems worlds younger than you.”
 
“And haven’t I cares and responsibilities too, I’d like to know! Wait till I’m fairly launched in my profession, and see how I will away at my briefs and documents.”
 
“Oh, Alan!” said Margaret, smiling indulgently, in a way that irritated him; “it is impossible to imagine you really at work. Have you ever practised at all?”
 
“Not yet. Circumstances have prevented, and I remained abroad much longer than I had any idea of doing; but one thing after another detained me. After Christmas, however, I am going to open an office and go to work in earnest.”
 
He spoke with confidence, but his tone did not impose upon his cousin, who in her heart had but small belief in his work. The fact was becoming more and more evident to her, that the life this elegant young gentleman had led had held him back from strong purposes, however much it had advanced him in social and graces.
 
“If a man has done nothing, from choice, up to thirty,” she said to herself, reflectively, “the chances are that, if the power of choice , he will continue to do nothing.”
 
“I am so glad you are pleased with Baltimore, Margaret,” said her cousin, interrupting her reverie. “How do you think you should like it as a residence?”
 
“Oh, I should like my home, wherever it chanced to be,” said Margaret. “It is people, and not places, that make one’s happiness, I think. I am sure I could be happy wherever my dear father and mother were.”
 
“But you cannot have them always. By-and-by some one must take their place.”
 
“Yes,” said Margaret, “I suppose so, but I try not to think of that.”
 
“Do you never think of marriage, Margaret? I suppose all young ladies must.”
 
“Not often, as to myself,” she said.
 
“Don’t you think matrimony desirable?”
 
“I really don’t know,” said Margaret, a little uneasily. “Not as we usually see it, certainly. I suppose under the very best conditions marriage is the happiest life—but I know nothing about it.”
 
“I am quite sure it is the happiest life,” said Alan, “for both men and women, and it is the greatest possible mistake to put it off too long. Don’t be too fastidious as to conditions, Margaret, and too high-flown in your notions. and respect, and congeniality of tastes are a good enough foundation—the rest will follow. A cheerful is an immense consideration, and that you have. You will always make the best of whatever comes. I don’t think I ever saw a woman better fitted for matrimony.”
 
He spoke so earnestly and looked at her with such intentness, that Margaret felt herself somewhat ill at ease, and was relieved when the door burst open and Decourcy came running in.
 
“Auntie Mard’rit, Ethel says you’re not my really auntie,” he said, wofully; “you is, now—ain’t you, Auntie Mard’rit?”
 
“I love you just the same as if I were, Dee,” said Margaret, lifting him to her knee. “I couldn’t be your real auntie, you know, because I’m not your mother’s or your father’s sister. Can you understand that?”
 
“But Mrs. Gregg is and Cora’s auntie,” said Amy, who had come to take part in the discussion, “and she’s not their mamma’s sister or their papa’s either; she only married their uncle.”
 
“And if Margaret married your uncle, she would be your really auntie, too,” said Alan, quietly. “She could settle the whole matter, if she would, and don’t you think she might? I do.”
 
“Oh! Auntie Mard’rit, won’t you please marry uncle?” cried Amy, , while Dee, seizing the idea, repeated faintly:
 
“Auntie Mard’rit, peese marry uncle.”
 
“Run away, children,” said Margaret, provoked to feel herself blushing. “Alan, how can you put such nonsense into their heads?”
 
“I am afraid it is but too true that you consider it nonsense,” he said, with a gravity that surprised her. Immediately he left the room, and Margaret found herself alone with the children, who insisted on ............