صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

which was to take me from Oakley was brought by the post. It is wonderful what consequences wait upon trifles. Had I remained this morning half an hour later with Helen in the drawing room, I also should have accompanied her in this ride, and should at least have had a parting word with her-perhaps I might have been emboldened to make my proposals. In the distress of the moment, her kind heart might not have repelled them. At all events I should have left at work for me in her bosom the interest of sympathy-but all this is nonsense now!

I bit my lips at this maternal inquiry; and seeing the old lady about to second it, I caught up my hat, and strolled to the stables. I contented myself with ordering my horses to be in readiness at sunrise on the morrow, and then kept out of my mother's way till dinner time. At this meal, her two favorite neighbors, a clergyman, and Col. M., were voluntary guests. I never shook their hands more cordially. They staid late, and I pressed them to stay later. I was just in such a mood of impatient apprehension, as made my mother's raillery the greatest possible annoyance. They As it was, the hour elapsed, and Helen was still left us, and I braced myself for the encounter. But the away. As I heard the last stroke upon the clock, I polite old lady had, I suppose, by this time discovered felt my face burn with causeless indignation. I took the effect of her insinuations, for they were not releave of the family at Oakley, and with stately stride, newed. On the contrary, her conversation was for the marched out to take horse, in all the anguish of offended rest of the evening, kind, serious and agreeable, and it majesty. Once mounted, I galloped off at full speed, was not till next day, in charging me with messages to leaving the field, as I felt, to no unskilful foe. Two her sister and niece, that she ventured to wish me days of rapid travelling took me to my mother's bed-success, and that in a voice and manner that inspired side. She was indeed ill, changed, worn to the shadow of the merry old lady I had left at home two months before, presiding in her hospitable house with dignified, though placid courtesy. I always hated sick scenes, so I shall spare the reader the detail of my thousand ignorant miseries, and only ask him to put this narration forward two months, at the end of which my good mother walked out of her chamber, having, during her three last weeks of durance therein, been so well attended by her daughter Madge, and her fat maid Eusebia, (both of whom, besides being capital nurses, were practised hands at making the various insipids to which the appetites of convalescents are commonly restricted,) that she appeared once more in the drawing room, as plump and fresh as when she left it; and she had not graced it three days, before I began to find my heart on the road to Oakley, and a sort of spur at the sides of my imagination, which impelled me to remove my body also to the field of contest.

My mamma was greatly surprised at my design. "I had not been at home more than two months. My late visit to Oakley had occupied as long a time." "Undeniable-but my stay at home had been so gloomy! I was tired of it. Her illness had spoiled my pleasure-the place was not itself, unless she presided."

good humor.

It was about dinner time, on the day which concluded my journey, that I dismounted at the gate of Oakley. I was—my apprehensions notwithstanding—in marvellous spirits. I thought the very sunshine brighter, the breeze softer, than either had ever before been observed to be. But this was of course the anticipated influence of Helen's presence. Never before had I loved any thing half so well. I had thought of little else since I left her. My journey had been full of her-nothing beautiful-nothing charming that I had failed to associate with her, as I encountered it. And, now, that I was about to see her, my heart bounded-but not unpleasantly.

A large party was expected to dinner-so I was informed by the servant who met me as I entered. The ladies of the family were invisible, and I was shown in a few minutes to my own apartment. It was the same I had occupied during my visit in June. It was now the end of August, but so mild had been the summer heats, that the foliage and turf upon which I looked from the open windows, were green and unchanged. "Would Helen also be the same?"

I threw myself upon the accustomed sofa. "The sofa of reverie"-as I used to call it. But how is this? Only two months have elapsed since I lay on "That compliment was contradicted by my depar- it before, and I revert to that period as if to an old ture. She was now entirely well."

time, of which my recollections were alike cherished

"Yes, madam, but"-here I totally forgot what I and melancholy. I felt a sort of tender foreboding, had intended to say.

My gracious mother laughed good humoredly. Mamma had lovely teeth even then, and liked to show them. Besides, she had never in her life voluntarily caused a disagreeable sensation. She was also a little shrewd. "My dear son, how silly you are," was her tender remark. "What is there to confuse you? You are naturally fond of gaiety, and I am growing old. More over, I suspect you are in love with my niece. I should soon be tired to death if you staid with me in this dull humor. When will you go? I hope you will to-morrow! Better see at once how Helen will dispose of you!"

to which lovers I fear are prone. In a few minutes the servant entered, bearing in his hands the fresh and limpid element which a long and dusty journey renders so grateful an accessary to our dinner preparations. Gladly did I avail myself of the refreshment-becomingly did I arrange my chesnut locks-a dozen times did I contemplate in the mirror the close, yet easy fit of a black suit, of unimpaired novelty-the delicate whiteness of my vest-the snowy folds of linen beneath it, which absolutely gave effect to the unobtrusive but costly diamond which reposed upon them. I could not withhold from the "toute ensemble" a nod of approbation; but as I bestowed it upon my image in the glass,

"How she will dispose of me, ma'm ?" I colored to I was annoyed by perceiving that a domestic belonging the eyebrows.

to the house-who, in pity to the fatigue of my own "Certainly, my dear. Do you fancy the matter be- servant, had supplied his place—was grinning behind yond doubt ?"

me, in full consciousness of the meaning of my com

placent gesture. I hastily turned from the smooth sur- | the greeting was made. In the new impression I forgot face which revealed the fact, and took my seat upon the sofa.

the blush of Miss Wharton, and my inference from it. I could not refuse the hand which was cordially offered, "You have had a gay time of it here, since I left but I was thrown into a confusion of sensations, and it you, Hyperion?" said I to the dignified sable, who was with considerable constraint that I returned his had by this time composed his countenance, and stood salutation. In this brief exchange of civilities, howvery respectfully waiting to be dismissed. Mr. Hype-ever, I encountered his eyes-his eyes that had many rion Hopkins gave token of assent.

"Many visitors, I suppose?"

"Oh! a great many, indeed, sir!"

times looked on storm and battle-and in their glance I could not but discover surprise and inquiry, mingled perhaps with something of concern. I took a chair

"And you happen to recollect who they may have beside my cousin. Why it was vacant, I never thought been?"

"Oh! yes, sir. Several ladies to visit my mistress; a great many elderly gentlemen to see my master, and no end to the beaux that have waited on Miss Helen." I detected a sidelong glance towards myself. "Very agreeable beaux, no doubt, Mr. Hopkins. Miss Helen could only have agreeable beaux."

"None of our family ever had any other, sir," answered Hyperion with a flourish of honorable pride. "Of course not. And who may have some of these sparks have been ?" I asked with apparent carelessness,

but real interest.

My dark associate paused, as if for recollection, relieved the leg upon which he had been standing, approached to his noddle his agitated fingers, remembered his dignity, and forebore that method of cajoling memory, and then, having cast an eye to the ceiling, protruded the forefinger of the right hand, and extended all the digits of the left, he finally, with the one, began to number Miss Helen's admirers upon the many.

"Mr. John Sandford, sir, is here every week-Mr. Tom Henderson very nearly as often. Mr. Hardwicke constantly-I could not say how often, sir; and Mr. Bridgeley was turned off, sir-absolutely discarded-I got his horse myself last week-a most mortified man as ever I saw. I really was quite sorry for him, though he was not the sort of man to marry Miss Helen."

of asking-but a minute or two afterwards, John Sandford rose from that which he had occupied next her on the other side, and Neville, who had loitered near us, speaking to another lady, as soon as he could disengage himself, made it his own. I chanced at the instant to look up, and caught Sandford's slight but significant gesture towards us, and the smile of a gentleman to whose side he had retreated. I was now very angry, and a good deal confused. Naturally, I suspected my case to be apparent to every body, though I could not understand how I had betrayed it. I lost all presence of mind, and surrendered myself to an embarrassment which might have disgraced crude eighteen.

Neville perceived it, and, though unconscious of the
cause, good naturedly attempted to lend me his aid.
"Your mother's health took you from Oakley, Mr.
Helmsley?"

"Her illness did," I answered peevishly.
Neville smiled at my petulance.

"Never mind the blunder," he said, "I only meant to preface an inquiry. I hope she is again quite well ?” "Quite-thank you."

There was a pause. I made an effort"My mother has charged me with a thousand messages to you, Miss Wharton.”

What could Miss Wharton do but express her interest? Yet, as she did so, it was with a sort of "And pray, Mr. Hopkins, what is the sort of man, smile which I could not entirely approve, and when I who, in your opinion, may be worthy of Miss Helen ?" observed a gleam of sympathetic merriment upon the "Exactly such a man as is here every day, sir—and | lips of Neville, my enthusiasm for family civilities was will be here to dinner this very day-Lieutenant Ne-effectually checked. Helen never knew the nature of ville, Master Frederick. There's the sort of man! As those of my mother; for whilst I was hesitating from the handsome as a lord and as generous as a prince! I mere want of ideas, Mr. Hyperion Hopkins threw open never saw a gentleman give such 'vails! He should the folding doors, made his reverence, and announced have my good word, sir, with Miss Helen—that is, if 1" dinner!" Neville offered his arm to Helen. I was could only make bold to give it for him."

I declare, even from Hyperion Hopkins, it went to my heart! When I had inquired, half in jest, concerning "the sort of man," I had not been thinking of Lieutenant Neville.

in a cold rage. I could have annihilated him. But in order properly to support my dignity, I haughtily drew back, and was the last to enter the dining room. I obtained a seat remote from Helen, ate in moody silence, and, without seeming to observe her, noted

"The dinner-bell, Master Frederick! Nothing more diligently her whole course of conduct during a long, wanted, sir?"

"Nothing, I thank you." I ran down stairs and reached the drawing-room before the guests had left it. I bowed to those agreeable persons, shook hands with aunt and uncle, and hastily advanced to greet my cousin Helen. I colored, stammered, and pressed her hand. Suddenly I had the pleasure to observe that Helen's color was a hundred times more brilliant than that which burned upon my own less delicate cheek. I hailed the omen. Alas! it was not for me.

"How are you, Mr. Helmsley?" I knew at a sound that hateful voice, and the naval frankness with which

but, except to myself, not a tedious dinner. Wit and wine flowed together, and Helen, rather more blushing perhaps, yet even more gay than usual, was the inspiration of the time. She, Neville, and young Hardwicke, kept up an unremitting play of ideas, and as they encouraged their opposite neighbors to take part in it, every one within hearing soon began to sympathise. All was mirth and good humor among them. At the end of the table to which I had sentenced myself, my aunt, and an old lady of the dullest possible qualifications, entertained each other to my perfect oppression. It was impossible not to appreciate the

contrast. But my motives for self sacrifice did not fortnight elapsed before I saw my mother, and when I therefore give way. On the contrary, I felt as savage did see her, it was to present to her so changed and as a bear, and should have gloried in my own gloomy worn, and attenuated a presence, that she listened withprecincts, could I only have extended their influence to out objections to my plan for a voyage to another hemismy enemies. But with them all was glow-sparkle-phere. I went abroad immediately, nor did I return for sunshine. And Helen's papa did listen so compla- several years.

cently!

The ladies rose from table, and we were left to the wine. After a few minutes I followed them to the drawing room. Helen was there. Most of the ladies were gathered about the piano-forte, in unison with which, a juvenile, just from school, was torturing a guitar. Helen was standing near a window when I approached her. She had no business with the instruments. I have said before that she could never be taught to use them. I wish only professional people ever could! The moment seemed propitious-for the few guests who were not entranced in the twangle which they styled a "performance," were either deep in the mysteries of a citron pudding, with Mrs. Wharton, or spell-bound in Miss Molly's fool's-paradise. I was not to blame this time, for I did not "slight my opportunity."

I hazarded some distant preliminary, but not without confusion. As Helen listened with attention, and answered kindly, this embarrassment wore away. Then my voice grew low and confidential, and its tones exceedingly tender. Helen looked surprised. My eyes fell-my heart beat rapidly-but it was too late to recede. I poured forth a passionate avowal. Her silence encouraged me to proceed. At last I raised my eyes, and then, to my horror, I perceived, that, though a deep flush had settled on her cheek, she was perfectly calm, and though hesitating a little, she was not the least confused. I allowed this discovery to silence me for a moment-and of that moment she promptly availed herself.

"Cousin Frederick, this ought not to be! I have never suspected the nature of your feelings, or it should not have occurred. I will, however, be as frank as our relationship and my regard for you can require that I should be. I cannot return your affection, cousin Frederick--and I am already engaged to Mr. Neville." She walked away and left me-absolutely stunned.

As soon as I could breathe, I stole out of the room, and went to take a walk. Reader, if you have ever been discarded, it is unnecessary tha: I should explain to you my feelings upon this occasion; and if you have not, it is the less requisite that you should pry into my distresses, inasmuch as there is every probability that, sometime or other, you will practically understand them far better than you could by means of description. If you are a lady, I know you have a hundred times imagined what such miseries must be—and so, to proceed

I had begged my mother not to make allusion to Helen in her letters. I myself had made no inquiry concerning her, previous to leaving the country; and I endeavored with my whole force to direct my thoughts to other objects. It was enough that she was, or soon would be, the wife of Mr. Neville. I could have no further interest in her fortunes—and my own, though injured, could not be irretrievable whilst I still possessed resolve, energy, and affluence to vary their scene of action. My mother was faithful to her promise-I to myself. Our letters never contained the name of Helen, and time and a succession of events gradually wore away the painful impression of her rejection. When at length I returned to my native country, I fancied myself pretty well cured of the old attachment, though no other had replaced it; and my mother was delighted to find me, as she was good enough to say, "improved in mind, manner and looks"-"more formed-more manly-more imposing."

I directly began to pry into family arrangements, and found that my mother had been literally upon the eve of a journey, which my unexpected return had suspended. I insisted upon the preparations 'being resumed,' and asked whither it had been her purpose to travel. "To say the truth, my son-to Oakley."

I felt an unexpected thrill-"Well, why not go?" I spoke steadily.

"Unless you could accompany me, I cannot," said my mother decidedly.

"To part so soon, after a long separation, would be any thing but pleasure."

I hastily considered the unmanliness of shrinking from what I must encounter-what I had imagined myself able to endure. I comprehended from my mother's manner, that Helen was as Oakley-but what then? Could I not meet her?

"Well, mother, and why should I not accompany you? Do you fancy me still the boyish lover of Mrs. Neville?"

"Of Mrs. Neville !"-My mother's eyes dilated. "Certainly, madam; or of Helen-if I must be more familiar-my cousin Helen."

"Your cousin Helen, she certainly is, poor thing; but not Mrs. Neville."

"Not Mrs. Neville!-How do you mean?"

I do not know how it was. Assuredly I had no suspicion of what followed, for my eyes blazed with sudden delight, and my heart bounded as it had not for many a bygone day.

"I left her, as I faneied, on the eve of marriage, ma'am.".

I returned from my walk-it was a very unsatisfactory ramble and went myself to the stables to demand my steed. I fancy I must have felt some indefinite hor- “Yes, but the evening that brought you from Oakley, ror of the valedictory sympathies of Mr. Hyperion. I carried to your rival orders to join his ship, and that am afraid, moreover, that I was too much agitated to without delay. Your uncle had given his consent to think of leaving 'vails. I blush to remember it; but I their marriage, but only upon condition of its being deam sure it was so. I threw myself on horseback, and ferred for a year. Possibly he might have dispensed spurred away to an inn about six miles distant, whither with this condition if Lieutenant Neville would have my servant had orders to follow me. Next day I pur-resigned his commission. But Neville, besides the dissued a very miserable journey-but not homewards. Al advantage of possessing only that commission in the

world, had also a good deal of what I really think very just pride. He had no desire to become dependant upon a father-in-law, and would not hear of leaving the Navy. What then could be done? He tried every means he could honorably adopt to get off from the present service, but all in vain. The farewell said that evening to Helen, made the last spoken language that ever reached her from poor Neville. He addressed to her a few lines when about to sail, and a longer letter from a port in the West Indies. The week succeeding the date of the latter, he fell a victim to some disorder incident to the climate. All this I was told by my poor sister a little before her death, which followed close on that of Neville."

complexion was as delicate, as pure as ever, and, where the rose was due, as rich and vivid-her eyes as lustrous, but more serious-her smile more winning, because more soft,-her laugh, rare and slight, though never restrained. All these observations I could not, of course, make at once. On the contrary my first impres sions were only those of general surprise and admiration. But in a few days I had taken note of all, and understood the change. The more one knew of Helen, the more one was obliged, I felt, to love her. It was all based upon a freedom from selfish feeling which I had never before seen exemplified,-though I had heard of such things.

"At first," as I learned from Mrs. Neville, who was

"Her death! my dear mother. Is my aunt then frequently at Oakley, “Helen had been utterly overdead?"

"She died four years ago."

"And in your letters you never alluded to it!" "Why should I have done so? You desired that I would not advert to Helen, and I supposed that your regrets required no addition."

I was touched by this delicacy, but, though greatly shocked by the communication just made by my mother, I hope I shall be forgiven the natural delight with which I reflected, even at this moment, that Helen was free. To my mother I only said, however, that I desired to accompany her to Oakley; and hopeless as I might justly consider a passion which had evidently only slumbered through the course of four long years, and which had been awakened by so inauspicious a circumstance as the death of Helen's lover, I yet did no longer deny myself certain day-dreams which I had long conscientiously repressed, as tending to enervate my own character, and to lessen all my best energies. Now I pictured to myself Helen-once so beautifully gay-a saddened creature, subdued for life into listless sorrow, and wearing the gloomy dress which should teach in silence, respect for her misfortunes. This picture roused all my pity-all my tenderness-and when we arrived at Oakley, I was prepared to love without return.

come by the death of her lover-for it was emphatically her first grief. It had previously seemed the care of Providence to steep her days in sunshine. Her sorrow was perfectly unobtrusive-shown chiefly by the sensitiveness with which she shunned allusion to its cause, and by her seclusion from the society even of her dearest friends. What she felt was inferred from the gloomy change which fell upon her manner and pursuits. Hers was no nature to communicate its own sufferings to others. Its delicacy was as fastidious as its feeling was profound; and the silence of such a heart, was the proof that its anguish was intense. She was fortunately the child of people whose refinement could comprehend her wishes, and her sorrow was respected. Its indulgence was never invaded. She was left to herself and to na ture-perhaps the wisest and kindest course-but the blow seemed to have been too heavy for her strength, and her life to be forever clouded. Her mother's health, about this time, began to decline. It had long before been extremely delicate, but, perhaps from the influence of misfortune, it became particularly precarious about the time when her sisterthe old maiden lady, you remember--Miss Molly-left Oakley for a distant home. You know she was greatly valued by Mrs. Wharton, and as they had always lived in love and parted in perfect peace, the force of habit rendered her absence a severe trial to Helen's mother. Her illness at length alarmed and aroused poor Helen. From that moment she seemed to forget all else. She

It was evening, and a few minutes before sunset, when we drove to the gate. There was soft summer | weather upon the landscape, and, familiar as I was with the scenery around me, I thought on this evening that it possessed a beauty which I had not formerly appre-exerted all her energies-and they are great--not to ciated. It seemed hallowed by the influence of the sweet and suffering Helen. I felt I am ashamed to say how much!

Helen met my mother in the hall. Her appearance threw all my reveries into confusion. She was exquisitely beautiful-so beautiful that, in my first bewilderment, I failed to perceive that which I afterwards observed, that she was dressed with her accustomed care, and in white, without much ornament, and with a little silken scarf, in color blue, about the most delicately pure and unexceptionable neck I ever saw. There was in her arrangements, both of hair and apparel, the finish of exact but graceful taste, and its effect was infinite attraction. She was herself changed only as is the bud in the fulfilment of its promise. Her figure had gained dignity, but lost neither symmetry nor lightness. Her face, with increased nobleness of character-a sort of saintly calm-and the quiet expression of perfect self-possession, had added to its earlier loveliness a hundred indescribable claims upon the heart. Her

seem cheerful--for seeming is no power of Helen's nature--but to be so. I believe she is very pious; though this, like all her subjects of deep feeling, is also one of great reserve. The effect is most gentle, most serene-and the religious principles which have been formed in her heart, render it quiet, calm, even happy. Look! there is nothing of blight about her. She is as fresh and glowing as a new blown rose!"

"You seem very fond of her?"

After

"It is a compliment to my heart to say so. the death of her mother, there was, of course, an interval in which Nature would assert her claims; but, even then, her self-denying generosity was in continual exercise, and had powerful influence in consoling Mr. Wharton. Since that sad time, she has presided in his house--you see with what dignity. She enters into his studies, tastes, amusements-and, in becoming his greatest blessing, has also become his idol. It is almost amusing to observe his admiration and respect for her person and character. And well may he entertain for

her both sentiments, for she has not only allured happiness again to these once sad scenes, but also every where else, whither she herself can come. Of late she has laid aside the garb of mourning-she mingles freely in society, and endeavors from its resources both to gain and give pleasure. Never, however, does she allude to former pain. When she first renewed her intercourse with society, she was sometimes evidently touched by different little circumstances associated in her memory with the past. But this softness, slightly expressed even in its first pain, was soon entirely repressed, for Helen is as firm as she is patient-as selfpossessed as saintly."

"And does she shun her former pursuits?"

"No, certainly not," was the prompt reply. "She walks and rides with her father, or with the different gentlemen who are often about her; though, I dare say, you will find her love of both exercises rather more reasonable than it once was."

I smiled, and Mrs. Neville went on :

"She dances, too--is that not very unsentimental? But it pleases her father, and that is enough for Helen. And, as I told you, she has added most of his tastes to her own. She reads with him a great many things which she could not have endured formerly. You may perceive that she has not lost her skill in dress. And she endeavors to give a general supervision to the household economy."

ever I understood them. This delicacy could not be lost upon a heart like Helen's, and as I was now really a different creature from the passionate unformed youth she had rejected, and also possessed some of the attributes which had attracted her towards poor Neville, I obviously made some advance in her esteem. She became confiding in her demeanor; and her attentions, though never open to misconstruction, were marked by kindness, which seemed an attempt at atonement. She was a thousand times more attractive than ever.

After a few weeks we left Oakley-but, though I hoped nothing, I soon returned. There were now no visitors staying in the house, and our communion was necessarily more intimate. Neither of us thought to what it was tending, and though each day I felt more and more dependant upon Helen, I made no attempt to control my feelings, secure that no effort of mine could lessen the misery of refusal. I was compelled to love her, let the consequences be what they might.

A third visit, within a very short time, brought the blush to Helen's cheek as she greeted me. I saw itbut I had learned not to trust to blushes. I passed a week in her society, and at its close had said nothing, and felt as if I never could say any thing on the subject first in my mind.

One morning, however, during the summer, we were sitting together in the drawing room. The windows "That is an accomplishment I should least have were open, and the sunshine and still fresh and dewy looked for."

"Otherwise she is by no means industrious, and scarcely knows the names of most of the implements of female usefulness."

air came together into the apartment, and brought with them a cheerful influence. We were very gay. Mr. Wharton had not yet descended to breakfast, and we were alone. We were speaking, I remember, of my "I am glad to find something, in which she is the travels. I was describing a painting I had seen abroad. same."

Helen thought she had an engraving from it, and rose "Yes-it's quite as well-perhaps better, as she will to look for it in a small cabinet which stood near a winbe affluent." "Better?"

dow. I did not like to see her there. In that very place she had rejected me. Yet I followed her. As

"Yes-her inability will pay its own tax to the in- she opened a drawer, I espied something which seemed dustrious poor."

"A good view of a bad case!"

"A common one."

"Yes."

Was not Mrs. Neville loquacious? And yet I liked her to talk as long as her theme was Helen.

Miss Wharton had met me with composure on my arrival, and she had afterwards conversed with me with a degree of calmness and presence to the subjects we discussed, which I myself could not always command. Every night I left the drawing-room more convinced of the hopelessness of all future attempts to acquire her affection, and yet myself more in love if possible than

ever.

composed of green and red velvet.

[ocr errors]

Oh, dear aunt Molly!" I exclaimed, seizing it. "Does a shred of the old lady's labors continue to ornament the world?"

Helen could not help smiling, as I drew out a red needle case, provided with the accustomed crimson cherries (which contained iron filings for the polishing, I believe, of rusty needles) and sundry dark green leaves, designed, as I think, less for use than ornament.

"Poor aunt Molly! Are you not ashamed to make me laugh? and all the time that very needle book was given as a keepsake, and made to incite me to future industry."

"Made to very little purpose, I am afraid, then--if all tales be true."

"Not to much, indeed."

"Pray, is aunt Molly married?" "What a question! No."

"So industrious a lady should have extended her sphere of usefulness-should she not?" Helen smiled.

Still she was not fettered. That was something, and I continued at Oakley, sharing most of her amusements, and endeavoring to interest her, not as a lover, but as a friend. I suffered any suspicions she might have conceived, to go quietly to sleep, and, in truth, at this time, I had not ventured to form any definite plan for the future. Indeed I could not judge of her feelings through the calmness of her manner, and I would not for worlds have wounded them, even ignorantly. For myself, therefore, I could resolve upon nothing; but I tried to mark my superiority to a former mortification, "If I must!" I twisted up the leaves of the needle and my respect for her sentiments and wishes, when- book with an air of reverence, but with a real disregard

"You don't insinuate by that smile."

"Indeed I insinuate nothing. Let dear aunt Molly alone."

VOL. V.-78

« السابقةمتابعة »