"You have done wisely," said Richard Waring. (We must give him his true name.) "When will you be ready to meet me upon this business?"

"To-morrow," muttered the squire.

He left the house with the air of one who has been crushed by a sudden blow.

The pride of the haughty had been laid low, and retribution, long deferred, had come at last.

Numerous and hearty were the congratulations which Mr. Morton--I mean Mr. Waring--received upon his new accession of property.

"I do not care so much for that," he said, "but my father's word has been vindicated. My mind is now at peace."

There was more than one happy heart at the farm that night. Mr. Waring had accomplished the great object of his life; and as for Frank and his mother, they felt that the black cloud which had menaced their happiness had been removed, and henceforth there seemed prosperous days in store. To cap the climax of their happiness, the afternoon mail brought a letter from Mr. Frost, in which he imparted the intelligence that he had been promoted to a second lieutenancy.

"Mother," said Frank, "you must be very dignified now, You are an officer's wife."