But, jest before the marriage, I got so rousted up a thinkin' about what I
had heard of him at college,--and I studied on his picture, which she had
sent me, took sideways too, and I could see plain (why, he hadn't no chin
at all, as you may say; and his lips was weak and waverin' as ever lips
was, though sort o' amiable and fascinating),--and I got to forebodin' so
about that chin, and my love for her wus a hunchin' me up so all the time,
that I went to see her on a short tower, to beset her on the subject. But,
good land! I might have saved my breath, I might have saved my tower.

I cried, and she cried too. And I says to her before I thought,--

"He'll be the ruin of you, Cicely."

And she says, "I would rather be beaten by his hand, than to be crowned by
another. Why, I love him, aunt Samantha."

You see, that meant a awful sight to her. And as she looked at me so
earnest and solemn, with tears in them pretty brown eyes, there wus in her
look all that that word could possibly mean to any soul.

But I cried into my white linen handkerchief, and couldn't help it, and
couldn't help sayin', as I see that look,--

"Cicely, I am afraid he will break your heart--kill you"--

"Why, I am not afraid to die when I am with him. I am afraid of nothing--
of life, or death, or eternity."

Well, I see my talk was no use. I see she'd have him, chin or no chin. If
I could have taken her up in my arms, and run away with her then and