had nothing to regret; nor uneasiness-yes she had though, for her betrothment did sometimes make her feel rather sad; and no wonder, for it was a strange kind of proceeding, and highly improper.

Not that it was not a good thing to marry her, or rather to promise to marry her, (for "there is many a slip between the cup and the lip,") to Charles Rightford, Charles being a very good, honorable young man, and moreover handsome, and well to do in the world. He was considered a very eligible husband by a great many persons; but Nina was uneasy at her betrothal, because she had never seen her betrothed. There she was, positively engaged to him, and expecting to marry him next May a year, and had never yet seen him (since they were both infants at least) or talked to him, or judged of his character, except by means of the very pretty 'and loving letters which Charles used to write to her from India.

Well, it was very pleasant to receive such kind and affectionate epistles every month from the person she was going to marry, but you know very well what letters are, and how often a man says on paper what he does not mean-the heartless creature!—especially when he writes to young ladies. True, Nina was not at all suspicious; but she would think sometimes—ay, often-how dreadful it would be to give her hand and pledge her heart to Charles when he came home, if she should not like him. She frequently dwelt on this subject, and it made her consequently a little uneasy at times, as aforesaid.

But it did not interfere with her usual gayety of disposition-not a bit of it; for, indeed, Aunt Stratelace, who lived in the next house all alone by herself, and who was very crabbed and spiteful, in virtue of old maidenhood, used to make ill-natured remarks, and say that Nina was too thoughtless and free and all the rest of it-but she even did worse, did Aunt Stratelace, for she used to write to Charles all the way in India, telling all sorts of tales about Nina, and making out that Nina was too "flighty," as she termed it, to make a good wife, and that,

therefore, he had better renounce all idea of marrying her. Aunt Stratelace did not do this out of any regard for Charles-not she! But she had a grudge against Nina for having said that "Aunt Stratelace looked ugly with all that paint on her face"-which had displeased Aunt Stratelace very much, as well it might, for ladies generally would rather not have their complexion handled too freely by critics of either sex.

Charles Rightford, however, was not suspicious either; few noble natures are, and he did not believe these tales, for he knew Aunt Stratelace's character by report; so he mildly informed her that he could not believe any harm of Nina, and that he hoped some day to convince his aunt that she had formed a very wrong estimate of the character of his betrothed.

Old maids are, however, singular people, under favor be it said, and with a due regard to the many exceptions whom I know to this rule also; but they are, on the whole, spiteful, because they have been disappointedenvious, because their chances daily diminish, while much younger women are being every day made happy around them-sensitive, because they imagine themselves marks for constant raillery-scornful, because they are excluded from the privileges of freedomsnappish, because solitude makes them imperious-dignified, because they imagine that it is becoming to be soit is becoming to be so-and ridiculous, because they can't help it. Old bachelors are equally bad, but I cannot lose time with them just now. I will have a word or two to say to them before long.

The two young people had been betrothed in a very singular manner. Nina's father, who had been a merchant in Liverpool, had contracted a strong friendship for his partner, old John Rightford, a man with a wooden leg, but one of the best-hearted fellows that ever lived, notwithstanding this ligneous inconvenience. And so, when Mr. Elhingham was dying, he made John promise (and John was glad enough of it, mind you) that he would use all his influence to bring about a marriage between his son, then two years of

age, and Nina, then an infant in arms. Old John and his son settled in India soon after his partner's death. Nina's mother, Nina's mother, who regarded this last wish of her husband as a sacred inheritance, did all in her power when Nina grew up, which she did in Liverpool, to carry out the project, and old John, to the hour of his death, always urged the step on his only son. The mutual pledges were given, and Charles (named after his grandfather) in India, and Nina in Liverpool, were duly promised to each other for man and wife. All this may appear very extraordinary and very improper; but that is not my business-I tell you the facts-make the most of them.

Charles's friend, Tom Elmore, as he was familiarly called in Charles's letter, (his right name was Thomas,) came home to Liverpool, in the year 1844, and brought a flattering introduction to Nina from her betrothed in India. Charles spoke of him as his dearest friend, indeed, as his other self, to whom Nina "might speak without reserve on every subject." The two last words were underscored by Charles, which was a delicate way of alluding to their intended marriage that was quite charming. Now, Tom was a handsome fellow. He had one of those fine open ountenances that call out "truth" when you look upon them. He. had a dark eye and a fine bold forehead. He wore, moreover, short whiskers-not short because he could not have had them full and large if he had had a mind to, but short and crisp because he liked them so-and his teeth were so white and regular-in fact, he was a handsome young fellow, and there was no mistake at all about it.

When Nina saw Tom, "and beheld that he was comely to look on," she asked if Charles had sent his portrait, as he had promised; "because," said Nina, "I have no other than one which was taken when he was quite a child."

But Tom said no-that Charles had not given him one to bring home-indeed, that he had not had one painted, but that he could tell her how Charles looked; he did

it however in such a cold and indifferent way, that Nina was vexed. And it certainly was not generous to speak of his absent friend to the young lady who questioned him in other than an enthusiastic manner. But as we have seen, Nina did not care much about Charles; and Tom was so entertaining in his descriptions of his homeward voyage, that Nina did not think much of Charles till after Tom Elmore had gone-and then Nina sat down alone in her room to think of her future, and to hope that Charles might resemble his friend, who was such a nice young man, and seemed to be so very clever.

Nina's mother welcomed Tom with great affability-asking a thousand questions about Charles, which quite embarrassed Tom, and made him regard Mrs. Elhingham as prosy, a quality which most matrons of Mrs. Elhingham's age are liable to be accused of. She moreover discovered, in the most unaccount-" able manner, a likeness between Tom and old Mr. Rightford, long since departed, and gave him a warm invitation, which he was not slow to accept. For in two or three days Tom again made his appearance, and came again next day with a piece of music, and again, on the following day, with a rare study on which Nina might exercise her pencil, and in short, after a time he was there every day, Sabbaths not excepted.

And there was no reason to prohibit his coming. His manners were unexceptionable; he was very attentive to Mrs. Elhingham, and to her daughter-perhaps a little more to Nina than her mother, but never mind, there was no harm in that, I suppose. And how well he played the piano! He used to give Nina lessons, too, sometimes; and he was such a patient master, and she such a docile pupil, that it was quite a treat to see them there together, though Aunt Stratelace did not think so; for, after she came in suddenly one day, and found him placing her fingers on the keys for a difficult chord, and holding up her wrist to show her how it ought to be kept up, she quite bridled up, and straightway went about among her acquaintances, and made mischief. She did more, the

spiteful thing, for she sat down that evening, though the packet could not sail for a fortnight, and wrote a cruel letter to Charles, acquainting him that" fine things were going on here, and he had better come home. She said nothing, because it was not her place to interfere; but how Ann Elhingham (Nina's mother) could sit down with the fear of God before her eyes, and let such things go on under her roof, she, Aunt S, could not tell, and did not pretend to know. It might be honorable conduct in Ann; perhaps it was; but she, Aunt S., did not think So, and could not be guilty of it-no, not for ever so." All of which was duly signed, sealed with rose-colored and scented wax, as if there was something cheering and pleasant inside instead of all that malicious scandal, and delivered into the keeping of the post-office. Having got rid of this harmonious epistle, Aunt Stratelace sat down in patience, and with the air of a martyr who had performed a noble but a painful duty, to await the re

sults.

In the meanwhile (you see it takes a long time for a letter to get so far as India) Tom Elmore continued to visit at Mrs. Elhingham's, and to instruct Nina in music, and to take walks with her; and Nina somehow liked to be with Tom, for she felt happy when she heard his clear, bold voice instructing and amusing her when they were quite alone in the fields, and when they sat together at the little piano up-stairs, which had learned to speak so plainly since Tom had come to Liverpool. Then the house was so much more lively than it was wont to be, and so much more cheerful; and when Tom sung, Nina felt so pleased, and happy, more happy than I could express to you, much morefor Nina loved Tom, though she did not know it at first, and Tom loved Nina too, but he knew it well-he did. Leave him alone for that.

Nina's happiness, however, did not endure. After Tom had gone home, she would then sit and think how it was that Tom did not speak so much of Charles as he did at first. He seldom called his name

now, and had not received any letters from Charles since his arrival. But then she had not received any either, so his might have miscarried as well as hers. At last Nina came to the conclusion that Tom loved her; and when this thought struck her, she smiled so joyously and brightly, and then as suddenly burst into tears as she remembered that her word, and consequently her honor, were pledged to another, and she could never marry Tom, though he might pray for it never so much.

Then Nina began to wish that she had never been betrothed to Charles. She blamed her father's selfishness, as she called it, which had sacrificed her; for she was sure she never could love Charles as well as she loved Tom. How could she! She looked at Charles's portrait taken in child: hood, when parents love to have their children's countenance preserved in paint, as if they could ever be of use to any body after youth has passed into manhood. She took this portrait, and contrasted Charles's light hair and blue eyes with Tom's black locks, and dark, piercing, sparkling eyes, and Tom's whiskers with Charles's bare cheeks, (as if Charles might not have whiskers then for aught she knew, the silly girl,) and was certain that she must love Tom, and could not love Charles on any account; and so she would lie down and weep herself to sleep.

And so Tom went and came, and Nina felt glad and sorry for a long time, wondering why Charles did not write, and hoping that he had changed his mind, and did not love her any more. The idea, however, of Tom's offering to marry never entered her mind, because she felt confident that his high sense of honor would never permit him to violate the confidence which Charles had placed in his integrity when he gave him so flattering an introduction to her, and because she did not believe that Tom could think so lightly of her as to suppose that she would break her plighted word to Charles, unless he voluntarily released her. She therefore had no fear, because she thought no wrong. Pure in action as in