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

of the flesh, which please the grosser sense of man, and make him turn to her when he would scoff at them; and when one of these bright spirits leaves the light of truth, and falls into the sin of falseness or dishonor, it seems as though a sacred star went out which shone before, and left some little world in dreary darkness.

Nina dearly loved Tom Elmore before he began to speak so plainly of the passion to which he had no right ever to give expression. But now that he had done so, Nina knew him as unworthy of her confidence as he was of Charles's, and she felt sorry that her belief in his excellence had been so suddenly and so rudely dispelled, like a morning dream of heaven..

The next morning Nina rose late, for she felt unwell, and having taken breakfast in her room, went down to the parlor and found Tom there. She did not guess what he had come for; because she did not know any thing of the signs which belong to these occasions. But I do. When you see a gentleman sitting alone in a room, carefully dressed, not lounging so as to put creases into his waistcoat, which would look untidy, but sitting studiedly upright, with a pale face-except on the cheek, where excitement places little spots of crimson--and when you moreover observe this young gentleman twiddling his gloves about, and troubled with nervous twitchings of his upper lip, you may be sure that he is about to "propose," and nothing less. Nina, however, as I have said, knew nothing of all this.

She spoke coldly to Tom as she entered the room, and seated herself on a couch at the other end. But when Tom came and sat by her, and took her hand in his and spoke to her so kindly and so affectionately, Nina turned deadly pale and trembled in every limb.

"Nina, dearest Nina!" said Tom, and his voice sounded so sweet and clear that

there was nothing like it, thought Nina, in all the wide world. "Dearest Nina! you know, you must know, how dearly and how

fondly I do love you. Meek and modest as you are, you must feel your superiority over all other maidens, and you cannot therefore wonder if my heart, my whole sense and being bow before your charms-nay, not so much your beauty, dear, as before your goodness and sweet, amiable disposition-and own you for their mistress. Till I came here, dear Nina, I knew no love, though I had tried to love before; and since I have been here, I have not only loved, but I have worshipped you. In the fond dreams of my calm boyhood, when I fancied what my wife would be, when I should grow to have one, imagination never pictured such an one as you. Perfection thrice perfected, goodness made best, and purity most pure, are yours, and yours alone. And if, dear Nina, if I dare aspire to so much worth, if I presume to ask of Heaven and you a boon, which must confer such lustre on myself, 'tis not, 'tis not, indeed, because I think that I am worthy of the treasure which I crave; 'tis not because I deem myself quite able to appreciate its value; but I do, indeed, feel, dear Nina, that I can keep and guard it well; for I know that, by God's help, I will do all poor man can do to show the gratitude which must spring out of so much bounty. To say, dear Nina, that I will give my whole life up to your happiness is to say little; for what is it to devote to God's best," loveliest creature the few short days which God bestows? But giving these, dearest, I give all, though less than I would give if that my most were more. You speak no word, and give no sign that you are either vexed or pleased to hear me thus address you, and but that you tremble and are ashy pale, I still might wonder if you heard at all. If you are angered, tell me in one word that you are hurt, and add one more to say you pardon my too bold advance, and I will quit you, Nina, quit you now for ever, if in so sweet a nature there can live so harsh a wish, with cruelty enough to give it utterance."

Do you suppose he meant half of all this? I don't; that is, I do only to a cer

tain extent. All men say the same things, in other language, when they offer. They tell young ladies that their lives are to be passed in endeavoring to make their wives happy; that no cloud is to come over the sunshine of their joyous life, &c., &c.; and before they have been married a month, they expect their wives to sew on buttons, make pastry, and do other offices; at the slightest neglect of which these swearing and protesting lovers, having thrown off their summer skin and relapsed into the winter of marriage, grumble audibly. It is all very fine in romance, and sounds very well at the beginning; but there is a great deal of gold to be rubbed off the gingerbread before we ever come to the true state

of the case. This is, however, useless digression.

Nina had, in truth, remained perfectly silent while Tom spoke; but at length she raised her face, to put an end to his addresses, when her eye encountered the forms of her mother and aunt, who had entered the room unobserved by its excited occupants, and had heard the greater part of Tom's very unexpected proposal.

Mrs. Elhingham's face was as pale as Nina's. Aunt Stratelace's visage, on the contrary, was red and white in patches, according to the obstacles offered to the free .course of the blood, by certain bumps which obscured the beauty of that amiable lady; and on the whole, she looked, being in one of her hard humors, rather like a bachelor's button, of the red species, which was running to seed and wanted to be watered, or otherwise submitted to the influence of some softening and soothing agent.

When Nina looked up, her mother had in some measure recovered her surprise, and taking Aunt Stratelace's arm had turned to leave the room; as she did so, however, the pale, trembling girl, who but a moment before seemed about to sink under her emotion, rose at once to self-command, immediately she felt that she must depend for aid upon herself alone. left her seat upon the sofa, and standing

She

midway between Elmore and the door, called to her mother-and her voice was as firm then as ever it had been, as round, and as full, and as noble as woman's voice could be.

And you,

“Mother,” she said, “stop, I pray you! aunt, do not go! this is a scene that will please you, for it cannot fail to be too cruel for us all. You have heard you could not choose but hear-what Mr. Thomas Elmore, Charles Rightford's friend, has said to me but now. You, mother, know that I never gave encouragement that might lead on to this. You, aunt, should know it too; though it may pain you to confess as much. Hear, then, my answer, that you may repeat it truly, if you can, when next you write your scandal of the day. Mr. Elmore, you, a man whose powerful will and cultivated mind should place you far above this most dishonest action, what can I say to you? What can I, a poor, weak girl, tell you that can in any wise cause Truth to teach your mind how foul a spot this act has painted on your fame? Trusted by your friend, you would betray him; trusted by me, you would sink me to shame and sorrow by making me the partner of your crime. You can go forth into the world, and by fresh sin blot out the recollection of this mean, miserable trick; but I, a woman, with a woman's modesty, can do no worse and still remain a woman, for honor is the boundary of virtue, and you would have me barter mine for love-your love! No, no, it cannot be love which is thus based. Love ennobles and refines, exalts, lifts up above the common follies of an age, and does not stoop to add fresh sins to its full catalogue for after-times to wonder at."

While Nina thus spoke, Tom looked up into her face with a strange and singular expression, until at last he sank upon his knees before her and kept looking in her face silently but fixedly, like one in a trance; that is, only so far as perfect stillness might give him that appearance, for in his face there was a look of light and triumph

which it was startling to look upon. But Nina heeded not.

"You know," she said, "that I do not love Charles Rightford. You know I could not, for you have proved that love can be born only of esteem, and I have never seen him. Yet, I know that he is not unworthy, and having once pledged my word to him, I am his eternally, so long as he is worthy, unless by his own free release. But you thought I loved you. You perhaps tried to make me love you," and her lip quivered as she spoke; "but if you still hold that dream, banish it as madness, and renounce the hope. What may have been yesterday is gone; for esteem is incompatible with contempt, and you have made this displace that by your most shameful conduct."

And yet Tom did not look down; and, oh me! what an expression on his face! There seemed naught but joy, and love, and purest triumph upon every feature.

"Go, then," said Nina; "go from me now and for ever. I knew no passion till I knew you, and passion has brought with it sorrow that till now was ever a stranger to my heart. Go from me and tell Charles Rightford, if you can dare again to look upon his face, whether his betrothed prefers love to honor, happiness before honest pride."

A tear trickled down the manly cheek of Tom Elmore while Nina spoke, but no muscle moved, no light went off the smile of joy which curled around his parted lips. Strange man!

"Tell him," she continued, "as I will tell him, all. Let him feel how much I have deserved his silence-how much I have merited the world's false report when it linked my name with yours."

Aunt Stratelace winced very much, and

"Charles Rightford!" said her lover, speaking for the first time, as he sprang to his feet and showed her portrait and the locket with the dark hair in, which she had sent him, and twenty other tokens besides. "Your Charles Rightford, Nina, dearest; here to prove the falsehood of all those who dared to speak lightly of the world's best ornament. I sent for your aunt, intending that she should be present at this interview, and-"

But Nina could hear no more; with one loud scream she sank into his arms and fainted.

And, my gracious! what a piece of work there was! What with smelling-salts and crying, burnt feathers and congratulations, there never was such a scene any where. As for Aunt Stratelace, she was off in a coach and a jiffy, and was not heard of more for some years, when it was discovered by chance that she was living with a maiden cousin in Wales. It is but fair to add that she was never inquired for.

That Charles acted wrongly and with deception he could not deny; but a frank confession and a few airs on the piano set him all to rights very soon, and he was married in the following month.

It was not much more than a year afterwards that little Nina Rightford was born; she that plays skipping-rope so well, you know. But to this day Mrs. Elhingham prides herself on the sagacity with which she discovered in the soi-disant Tom Elmore a strong resemblance to old Rightford.