Well may you look about upon the group before you with a placid feeling, Peter Bond. Isn't it worth a few more years severance from the spirit that awaiteth thee elsewhere, to see so noble a work--the result of thy instrumentality? It was a strange Providence to thee that raised thee up from the jaws of death and set thee upon thy strong feet again; but to question its wisdom was perfect folly--that thou feelest now as thy usefulness becomes apparent even to thy humility.
Nannie wonders what subject is agitating her friend, as his face grows thoughtful and serious; but she does not interrupt his meditations, for she has many a moment of quiet reflection that she wouldn't have broken for all the world, so she keeps very still until her hour has expired, and then says "good-night," so gently that he is not disturbed.
Mr. Bond goes to his room, with puss sauntering after, and Mrs. Bates indulges herself in a cat-nap in her chair, while Pat is enjoying the moonlight walk to Mrs. Minturn's with Nannie. He is as happy as happy can be until they reach the house, and Mike Dugan confronts them with a gift for Nannie. It's all spoiled now! Pat frowns upon Mike, and making a gruff adieu to Nannie, walks back again, with an uncomfortable feeling as if all the world is against him; and Nannie puts the unopened parcel upon the table, and cries herself asleep, with Pat's daguerreotype under her pillow and his rough adieu in her heart.
Poor children! it's the same the world over--smiles and tears, and smiles again; heart-breakings and heart-mendings; quarrels and reconciliations. There's no help for it; you must have your own experience!
Mike, with his hands in his pockets, strolls homeward, whistling a merry tune as he thinks of the smile upon the young face that haunts him. He does not fancy there will be much difficulty in winning Nannie Bates. "All the girls like him, and why shouldn't she?" Mike has a tolerable favorable opinion of himself. He keeps a livery-stable in ---- street, and takes the girls out to drive, and he flourishes his whip, and trots his fast horses along the roads with the best of them. There is a bravado sort of way about him that tells among his companions, who look up to him with a certain degree of veneration, as a being of rather a superior order to themselves. He twists his red hair over a hot iron till it stands up all about his head in little bits of curls; and he has grown a flaming mustache that is really quite killing among his female acquaintances. No wonder he is so easy concerning Nannie Bates! He couldn't imagine that Pat Rourke, with his uncouth ways and brusque appearance could presume to rival him in her heart! So he enters the stable with a joyous spring, and goes the rounds cheerfully, patting Berk's back, and speaking pleasantly to Roscoe, and giving an ear of corn to Arab, and a little more hay to all.