"Before you reproach me," said Stratford, "I think you should remember at whose suggestion the deception was first entered into."

"I did not foresee the consequences," said Talbot.

"Pardon me," said Stratford; "the consequences were foreseen by both of us. I remarked that I was unwilling to strut, like the jay, in borrowed plumes; and you replied that if the 'Russian Brothers' attained the greatest celebrity, you would never assert your rights of paternity."

"You certainly possess an excellent memory," said Talbot, sarcastically, "whatever other mental attributes you may be deficient in. I remember the promise of secrecy to which you allude, but no promise was made on your part; therefore if you are inclined to descend from your usurped position, and give it up to the rightful owner, there is no cause why you should refrain from doing so."

"And can you really," asked Stratford, with surprise, "expect that I should expose myself to the censure and ridicule of society for the purpose of reinstating you in rights which you voluntarily made over to me?"

Talbot paused some time before he replied. “I feel," he said, "that I have expected too much. I rescind my proposal. I will only require you to make known the truth under a strict promise of secrecy to one individual."

"And that individual is Adelaide Linley, I conclude," said Stratford. "It is," replied Talbot; "let Adelaide but know me as I really am, and I do not heed-at least I will endeavor not to heed-the opinion of the world; besides, Stratford, recollect that if you marry Adelaide, she must certainly find out the deception eventually; she can never believe that the fount of poetry has suddenly dried up within you; no doubt, indeed, she has already begun to wonder that you have not given vent to 'a woful sonnet made to your mistress' eyebrow.'"

Stratford returned no answer, but the conversation left a deep impression on his mind; and he felt that it would indeed be the most honest and upright course that he could pursue, to confess the whole truth to Adelaide, and then silently to withdraw himself from the literary society of which he was so little calculated to be a member. Nor was this resolution of Stratford's so great a sacrifice as might be imagined; he had for some time felt himself very little at ease among his brilliant new associates; he was aware that he was only "cloth of frieze," although circumstances had for a time matched him with "cloth of gold." He could not respond to the literary quotations and allusions constantly made in his presence. He had heard some wonder expressed that he had no scraps in his portfolio to show confidentially to admiring friends; and the editor of a leading periodical had kindly suggested to him a subject for a tale in blank verse, which, if written at all in the style of the tragedy, should, he said, re

ceive immediate attention from him. Then, in other circles, young ladies had requested contributions for their albums, and Adelaide had more than once expressed her wish to have new words written for some of her favorite old airs.

Stratford, the morning after his conversation with Talbot, sought the presence of Adelaide, resolved that, if his courage did not fail him, he would make a confession of his misdeeds, and an offer of his hand and heart before he left the house. He found Adelaide, as he had wished, alone; she was reading a letter when he entered, and it dropped on the ground as she rose to receive him; he lifted it up, and recognized the hand in which it was written; it was that of Captain Nesbitt, and the letter appeared to be of some length. Stratford felt disposed to be rather jealous; Captain Nesbitt was well connected, remarkably handsome, very lively, and had, like Captain Absolute, "an air of success about him which was mighty provoking."

"Do not let me interrupt your perusal of that letter," he said, rather coldly and stiffly.

"You have doubtless," said Adelaide, with a smile, “seen the handwriting; you do not prevent me from reading the letter-I have just finished it; and although your visit may cause my answer to it to be delayed a little while longer, the delay is of no manner of importance, since I shall only write a few lines of no very agreeable purport."

"I pity the poor fellow from my heart," exclaimed Stratford, and he spoke with sincerity; he could afford to pity Captain Nesbitt when he knew that Adelaide was about to reject him.

"He does not deserve your pity," said Adelaide. "Can the gentle and kind-hearted Adelaide express herself so harshly?" asked Stratford, feeling more and more generously inclined towards his rival, when he saw how much he was disdained.

"I must explain myself," said Adelaide; "for I should be very sorry that you (and the delighted lover actually fancied that he detected a slight emphasis on the word you) should believe me to be hard-hearted and unkind. Captain Nesbitt has considerably fallen in my estimation during the last few days. I have received abundant proofs that he does not always love and respect the truth."

Stratford began to feel rather nervous; he had a particular dislike to conversation which turned on the subject of love and respect for the truth.

'Captain Nesbitt," continued Adelaide, "when he first became acquainted with me, informed me that, although his present property was but limited, he expected to succeed to the estates of an old and infirm uncle residing in Wales. I was lately in company with a family who happened to live in the immediate neighborhood of this wealthy old uncle; he has indeed large estates, but he has two sons in excellent health, to inherit them."

Adelaide here paused, expecting to hear an exclamation of indignant surprise from Stratford; but

it was not uttered. Stratford was by no means troubled with an over development of conscientiousness, and it appeared to him that Captain Nesbitt had committed a very venial offence in keeping two Welsh cousins in the background, who might have interfered so materially with his interests.

"Doubtless," he at length remarked, "this subterfuge on Captain Nesbitt's part was owing to the excess of his affection for you."

"I doubt it very much," said Adelaide; "affection is always prone to overrate the good qualities of its object; now Captain Nesbitt must have greatly underrated mine, if he could deem it likely that, possessing as I do an ample sufficiency of the goods of fortune, it could make any difference to me whether the lover of my choice wore wealthy or otherwise." "Could you not in any case deem an untruth exeusable?" asked Stratford.

"In none," replied Adelaide; "but there are cases in which I deem it particularly inexcusable: the falsehoods of pride or vanity, the assumption of being better, or richer, or wiser than we really arethese are, in my opinion, as contemptible as they are reprehensible."

"Men of the world," pursued Stratford, "are apt to think very little of an occasional deviation from truth."

"Pardon me," said Adelaide, "if I entirely differ from you. Should one man of the world tax another with the violation of truth in homely, downright phrase, what is the consequence? the insult is considered so unbearable, that in many cases the offender has even been called on to expiate his words with his life. Now, if a departure from truth be so mere a trifle, why should not the accusation of having departed from truth be also considered as a trifle?"

Stratford was silent; his shallow sophistry could not contend with Adelaide's straightforward rightmindedness, and he was rejoiced when the entrance of visitors put an end to the conversation. A tête à tête with Adelaide had on that morning no charms for him; he lacked nerve for either a confession or a proposal! Perhaps, however, it would have been better for Stratford if he could have summoned courage to have outstaid the visitors, and revealed everything to Adelaide; for discovery was impending over his head from a quarter where he could not possibly expect it, inasmuch as he was ignorant of the very existence of the person about to give the information. Every one must have been repeatedly called on to remark, that in society there seems to be a mysterious agency perpetually at work, bearing news from one quarter to another apparently quite unconnected with it. In every class or set we meet with some person who makes us cognizant of the sayings and doings of another class or set, from which we have been hitherto removed at an immeasurable distance. Often the information thus gained is desultory and uninteresting, and it passes away from our mind almost as soon as we receive it; oc

casionally it strikes upon some connecting chord, and we eagerly listen and respond to it.

When Adelaide Linley left school, she had, like most young girls, a favorite friend, with whom she kept up a regular correspondence, at the rate of three sheets of rose-colored note-paper a week. Emma Penryn, however, lived in Cornwall; and as year after year passed by, and the friends never met, the correspondence decidedly slackened. Still, however, it was never wholly given up, and Adelaide had written to her friend shortly after the introduction of Talbot and Stratford to her, mentioning their names, and speaking of them as likely to prove pleasant and desirable acquaintance. The day after Adelaide's interview with Stratford, a letter arrived for her from Emma Penryn. She apologized for her long silence, and gave an excellent reason for it; she had been receiving the addresses of a very desirable admirer, who had at length proposed, and been accepted; he was a Cornish man, and his property lay within a few miles of that of her father. After entering into numerous details regarding the carriage, the trousseau, and the marriage settlement (young ladies in the nineteenth century are very apt to talk and write about the marriage settlement), the bride-elect continued

"I am quite sure you will hear an excellent character of my dear Trebeck, if you mention his name to Mr. Talbot; only think of their being great friends; indeed, Mr. Talbot was quite confidential with Trebeck a year ago, when staying with him in the country-house of a mutual friend, and actually was so kind as to read to him the beautiful tragedy of the Russian Brothers,' to which he had just put the finishing stroke. Mr. Talbot did not let any one else know a word about it, and in fact extracted a promise of the strictest secrecy from Trebeck; the reason was, that he meant to produce the tragedy on the stage, and had a terrible nervous fear of failure, a fear which was unfortunately realized by the event; I suppose because it was too good for the audience to understand. Trebeck kept the secret most admirably, never breathing a word of it even to me, till the brilliant success of the published play of course took off the embargo of silence, and now we tell it to everybody; and Trebeck, I assure you, is not a little proud of the confidence reposed in him by his literary friend."

Adelaide read this part of the letter with incredu. lous surprise, imagining that Emma was under some misapprehension; but when she came to reflect on past events, she could not but see that it was very likely to be true; she had several times been much struck with the inconsistency of Stratford's conversation and his reputed literary talents, and had felt surprised that he should so invariably have resisted all persuasion, even from herself, to give any further proof of his poetical abilities. It might seem astonishing that Talbot should so freely have acquiesced in this usurpation; but Emma's letter threw

light on the subject, by alluding to Talbot's nervous horror of failure, and Adelaide's quick apprehension soon enabled her to see the real state of the case, and to become sorrowfully convinced that Captain Nesbitt was not the only one of her "wooers" who had shown himself regardless of the sacred laws of truth.

Reluctantly, but steadily, did the young heiress prepare herself to act as she considered for the best under the circumstances. She wrote to Talbot and to Stratford, requesting that they would each wait upon her at the same time on the following day. Neither of them suspected the reason of this summons; Talbot had indeed almost forgotten the existence of the silly, good-natured Trebeck; he had read the "Russian Brothers" to him, because, like most writers, he felt the wish, immediately after completing a work, to obtain a hearer for it; and because, like some writers, he had a great deal of vanity, and had been flattered by the deferential admiration of a man much inferior to him, and from whom he need not fear any distasteful criticism. Talbot knew Trebeck to be perfectly honorable, and if he had ever thought of him at all, he would have remembered the promise of secrecy he had exacted from him, and would have felt quite at ease. It never entered his mind that circumstances might happen which would induce Trebeck to consider himself absolved from his promise, and that, as the "Russian Brothers" had been published without a name, it was perfectly natural and probable that the Cornish squire might be ignorant that the London world of letters imputed the authorship of it to Stratford, and not to Talbot. The rivals were punctual to their appointment, anticipating nothing more important than that they should be invited to join a party to a flower-show or the opera-house. Adelaide did not keep them in suspense, but said that she wished to read to them part of a letter which she had recently received. When she had finished, she told them that she had considered it right to make them acquainted with this statement, and asked if they had anything to say in refutation of it. They looked confused, and were silent. Stratford was the first to speak. "Forgive me for my seeming assumption of talents not my own," he said; "and remember that my motive was to save a friend from the mortification of acknowledging a defeat."

"I cannot conceive that such was your only motive," replied Adelaide; "you evidently took pride and pleasure in your new character. Did you attempt to suspend the publication of the drama? Did you shrink from the distinctions that followed it? No; you courted popularity, and enjoyed it, knowing all the time that you had done nothing to merit it, and that the whole of the applause that you received was in reality the right of your friend!"

Adelaide's words sounded a knell to the hopes of Stratford, but they seemed "merry as a marriage

bell" to the eager ears of Talbot. "Dearest Adelaide," he said, "how kindly, how gratifying do you speak of my talents! They are entirely dedicated to you; all the laurels that they may hereafter gain for me shall be laid at your feet!"

"Do not trouble yourself to be so very grateful Mr. Talbot," replied Adelaide. "You will be little obliged to me when you have listened to all that I have to say to you. Your talents are undoubtedly great, but I do not consider that vividness of imagination and elegance of composition constitute a man of really fine mind, any more than a suit of regimentals and an acquaintance with military tactics constitute a brave soldier. I may continue the parallel. You entered the field of battle by your own choice, knowing that it was possible you might meet with defeat. Your first defeat came, and what was the course you pursued? Did you resolve to try again with added vigor? No, you determined to conceal that you had tried at all; you deserted the noble ranks to which you belonged, to sink into the mass of commonplace beings; and should your conduct ever become generally known, rely upon it that all literary men who sit in judgment upon you will unanimously sentence you to be cashiered for cowardice!"

Stratford breathed a little more freely during this speech; it was a great relief to his feelings to hear his friend so severely reproved.

"I will not," pursued Adelaide, "dwell upon the offence that you have mutually committed in departing from the straight, clear, and beautiful path of truth; you well know my opinion on the subject. I could never feel happy in a near connection, or even in an intimate friendship, with any one who did not know and revere truth as I have always done. I shall probably occasionally meet again with both of you, but we must meet hereafter only on the footing of common acquaintance."

The disconcerted "wooers," now no longer rivals, took a speedy departure: they exchanged a few sentences on their way, in which there was much more of recrimination than of condolence, and then coldly separated. Their friendship had long been at an end; and, in the midst of all their recent mortifications, each felt consoled at the thought that he was not compelled to cede Adelaide to the other.

It was easy for Adelaide to avoid future intimacy with her two rejected lovers, without causing any remark among her circle of acquaintance.

It was now nearly the end of June; Mr. Grayson was quite a man of the old school: he did not stay in London till the middle of August, and then repair to Kissengen or Interlachen. He had a pretty country-house a few miles from London, and always removed to it at midsummer. Mrs. Grayson, who enjoyed nothing so much as her flower-garden, was delighted to escape from the brown, dusty trees of a London square; and Adelaide, although she liked public amusements, liked them as "soberly" as

Lady Grace in the "Provoked Husband," and always professed herself ready to rusticate as soon as the roses were in bloom. Three days after her interview with Talbot and Stratford, she removed from the bustle of London to a region of flowers, green trees, and singing-birds. The former friends-now, alas! friends no longer-travelled abroad. They had each studiously contrived to depart on a different day, and to visit a different point of the continent; but they happened accidentally to meet on a mountain in Switzerland. They passed each other merely with the remarks that "the scenery was very grand," and that "the panorama of the Lake of Thun, at the Colosseum, had given one a capital idea of it!"

Stratford returned to London in January: Captain Nesbitt was the first person of his acquaintance whom he encountered. Now Captain Nesbitt possessed an infallible characteristic of a narrow-minded, mean-spirited man: he never forgave a woman who had refused him, and never omitted an opportunity of speaking ill of her. After having anathematized Adelaide and her coquetries for some time, he proceeded

"Her marriage, however, will shortly take place, and it is, I think, a fitting conclusion to her airs and graces. Perhaps, as you have only just arrived in England, you are not aware that she is engaged to her guardian's clerk ?"

"To that

"To Alton!" exclaimed Stratford. quiet, dull young man! Impossible! She used to ridicule his unsocial habits, and also was very severe on his propensity for hoarding money."

"However that might be," replied Captain Nesbitt, "he has proved himself not too dull to devise and succeed in an admirable matrimonial speculation and, as for his system of hoarding, perhaps the fair Adelaide, although she objected to it in an indifferent person, may not disapprove of it in a husband. Heiresses are always terribly afraid of marrying men who are likely to dissipate their money."

"When is the marriage to take place?" asked Stratford, with affected carelessness.

"I believe in a few weeks," said Captain Nesbitt ; "that is, if nothing should happen to prevent it. I think I could set it aside at once, if I took interest enough in Adelaide to make it worth my while to do so. I could communicate to her something respecting Alton which would decidedly lower him in her opinion."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Stratford, eagerly. "Has Alton, then, been guilty of any deviation from the truth?"

Poor Stratford! "He that is giddy thinks the world turns round;" and he had no idea that a lover could offend in any other way than by deviating from the truth.

"I do not know that Alton has told any untruth,"

said Captain Nesbitt; "but I have reason to think that he has kept back the truth."

"That may do quite as well," thought Stratford, "when one has to deal with so scrupulous a person as Adelaide;" and he requested Captain Nesbitt to explain himself.

"Alton's father," said Captain Nesbitt, "did not resemble the father in an old song of O'Keefe's

'Who, dying, bequeathed to his son a good name!"" He was, like his son, a confidential clerk-not, however, to a solicitor, but to a Liverpool merchant. He repaid the confidence of his employer by embezzling sundry sums of money, which he hazarded at the gaming-table. At length, the frequency of his losses occasioned him to commit a more daring act than a breach of trust: he forged the name of the merchant to a banking-house check; discovery ensued, and he only escaped the punishment of the law by committing suicide. This event happened five years ago, and is fresh in the remembrance of many persons in Liverpool."

"But do you not think it likely that Alton may have revealed these facts to Adelaide ?" asked Stratford.

"I do not think it in the least likely that he should have proved himself such a blockhead!" replied Captain Nesbitt. "Adelaide would never marry the son of a man who only escaped hanging by suicide!"

"They do not hang for forgery in these days," said Stratford.

"So much the worse," said Captain Nesbitt. "It is a crime that cannot be too severely punished. I remember hearing that, many years ago, a man was hanged for forging the ace of spades: I wish those good old times would come back again."

Stratford was silent; not all his pique, nor all his jealousy, could induce him to think that it would be desirable for the times to come back again, when a man was hanged for forging the ace of spades!

The next day, Stratford called at Mr. Grayson's, and found Adelaide alone in the drawing-room. She looked a little surprised at seeing him, but received him as she would have done a common acquaintance. Stratford congratulated her on her future prospects, and uttered some forced commendations on the excellence of Alton's character.

"He affords a convincing proof," he said, with a little trepidation, "that the son of an unworthy father need not necessarily tread in his steps."

"There are so many similar instances of that fact," said Adelaide, "that I think there is nothing astonishing in them. The good or bad qualities of a father are not, like landed estates, entailed upon his son."

"Then you do know," said Stratford, "that Alton's father was an unworthy man?"

Adelaide looked at bim with rave, earnest sur

prise. "You have chosen a strange subject of conversation," she said; "but I have no objection to satisfy your curiosity. I heard of the circumstance to which you allude from Alton himself."

"I conclude," said Stratford, "that Mr. Grayson insisted on his being candid with you, previous to your engagement being concluded?"

"You are quite in the wrong," returned Adelaide. "Mr. Grayson is much attached to Alton-whom he is on the point of taking into partnership—and was very desirous that he should propose to me. He enjoined him to keep secret the melancholy circumstances connected with his father, as they could only tend to give me uneasiness; and it was quite certain that no one else would be so deficient in kind feeling as to mention them to me." Stratford felt rather embarrassed and uncomfortable as Adelaide uttered these words. "Alton's strict and honorable love of truth, however," pursued Adelaide, "led him to disregard this counsel; some weeks before he proposed to me he made known to me every particular of his father's trangression; and I assured him, in reply, that I did not consider him in the smallest degree lowered in excellence by having become good, conscientious, and truthful, without the aid of parental precept or example."

Stratford was determined to discharge a parting arrow at the provoking heiress. "You have shown yourself extremely liberal in your opinions," he said; "and you have the very comforting reflection that, from Mr. Alton's known and remarkable habits of frugality, he is never likely to fall into the same snares that proved fatal to his father, but will distinguish himself rather by saving money than by squandering it."

"As you appear," said Adelaide, "to speak in rather an ironical tone concerning Alton's economy, I think it due to him to enter into a short explanation of his motives. When Alton first paid me those marked attentions which I knew must lead to a proposal, I sometimes rallied him on his strict frugality, and sometimes gently reproved him for it: he was not only sparing to himself, but I felt grieved to remark that, although ever willing to devote time and thought to the poor, he rarely assisted them with money. He assured me that he had a reason for his conduct, and that he was certain that I should not blame him if I knew it. He added that the necessity for economy would soon cease, and that he should then have the pleasure of indulging his natural feelings of liberality. I was not satisfied with this reply: I required him to give a direct answer to a direct question, and to tell me what were his motives for saving, and why they should exist at one time more than another.

"It was very merciless of you," said Stratford. "Not in the least," replied Adelaide. "Alton had given me such proofs of his truthful and honorable nature, that I knew, if he held back any communication from me, he could only do so because it

was creditable to him, and because he wished to avoid the appearance of boasting of his own good deeds and so it, indeed, proved to be. Alton had for five years been denying himself every enjoyment suitable to his age and tastes, for the purpose of saving the sum of money of which his father had defrauded his employer. When he first began this undertaking, it seemed likely to prove a very tedious one; but, two years ago, he happily received a legacy from a relation, which more than half realized the amount that he required; still, however, he did not slacken in his laudable energy; and, shortly after the conversation to which I have alluded, he was enabled to pay over the whole sum, with the accumulated interest, to the Liverpool merchant, who sent him a letter full of the kindest expressions of approbation, concluding with the assurance that he should make his noble act of atonement generally known among all his friends. Therefore, by this time, every one who has censured the faults and frailties of the father, is engaged in lauding the honor and honesty of the son."

Stratford had heard quite enough; he took a hasty leave, sincerely repenting that he had ever thought of troubling the bride elect with a morning call.

Alton and Adelaide were married in the course of a few weeks: two years have elapsed since that time, and I am of opinion that the unusual happiness they enjoy is greatly to be attributed to the truthfulness which is the decided characteristic of both of them. I am aware that many of my readers will say that it is of little importance whether a married couple, whose interests necessarily bind them together, should mutually love truth, or mutually agree in sanctioning the thousand and one little falsities of worldly expediency; but I think that those who hold such an opinion cannot have had many opportunities of closely observing the domestic circles of their friends and neighbors. Had they done so, they would have been aware that the beginning of matrimonial unhappiness repeatedly arises from the detection by one party of some slight violation of truth on the part of the other. Often such a violation is committed with no ill intent; nay, often, indeed, is it done with the kind motive of sparing some little trouble or anxiety to the beloved one. A trifling trouble is concealed, a small expense kept in the background, the visit of an intrusive guest unmentioned, or a letter read aloud with the omission of a short part of it, which might be supposed to be unpleasant to the listener. These concealments and misrepresentations, in themselves so seemingly slight, become of terrific account when frequently repeated; confidence is shaken; and, when once that is the case, conjugal happiness is soon at an end. Adelaide and her husband are on the most confidential terms, because neither of them ever thinks whether a true remark or communication is agreeable or not: they speak it because it is