"Well! my daughter ?" said Mrs. Austin, with | cacy, and disgusted you, by teasing you about him. an approving smile, and in a tone of inquiry.

Now this time I have said nothing, and left you to yourself. But though I was silent you could not help knowing my wishes; and that, I suppose, was enough to determine you to disappoint them. Obstinate, disobedient, ungrateful girl!”

The young lady was entering the room with an air of recovered composure, though a slight tinge upon her cheek, and an excited flash of the eye, and an almost imperceptible quivering of the lip showed that she was not entirely free from emotion. In her step, and the carriage of her head there was an expression of self-confidence and offended pride; and, on the whole, it was plain, that whatever might be the feeling of the moment, self-ther, sensible of her injustice, instantly softened.

reproach had no part in it.

"Well! my daughter is all settled ?" "I hope so, Ma'am," was the quiet reply. "Mr. Crabshaw then is the happy man at last?" "I trust, Mother, I wish Mr. Crabshaw at least as much happiness as he deserves, but I do not expect that I shall ever contribute to it."

"How!" exclaimed Mrs. Austin, in a tone of unfeigned amazement; "is it possible that you have rejected an offer that has made you the envy of all the girls in the village?”

"I do not know, Mother, who may envy me, but I have certainly given Mr. Crabshaw an answer which should forever free me from his unwelcome addresses."

Poor Gertrude burst into tears, and sinking on the sofa, covered her face with her hands. She felt that she did not deserve this reproach-but she did not expostulate. It was needless. The Mo

"My dear Gertrude," she said, "you must forgive my harshness. You have always been good and dutiful, in every thing but this; and hence perhaps it is, that I am the more impatient at finding you so unreasonable and intractable. But what am I to think of your behavior? I have had no reason to suspect that you had gone, like a silly girl, and fallen in love with somebody who was not thinking of you, and I do not know how to understand your obstinate rejection of the best offers." "Is it not enough, Mother, that I have as yet seen no man whom I can love?"

"Love!! repeated Mrs. Austin, with that scornful emphasis, with which the word is sometimes uttered by ladies whose day of love is past; "Love! and what should you know about love?"

"Nothing, Mother, but what I am told, and of that I understand and believe no more than what is self-evident-that whenever I do love any body well enough to be willing to leave all my friends, and spend my days with him, I shall not be unconscious of it."

"There you are mistaken, my dear. People are very often in love before they suspect it, and remain in ignorance of their true feelings, until something happens to interpret them."

"I do not know how that can be, Mother. I love you, and my kind good father, and my little sister, and all my friends; and I could as soon be

hungry, or thirsty without knowing it, as insensible to my affection for these."

At this moment Dr. Austin entered the room, and wearily threw himself on a sofa opposite to

"O yes! But the love we are talking of is that on which Gertrude sat. Though but her stepquite a different affair."

father, he regarded and loved her as his own child, "Different! So I have been told before. I wish and unaccustomed to any reserves in his family, people would not call different things by the same thought nothing of breaking in upon a conversation name. But if I love Mr. Crabshaw, it must be between his wife and her daughter. His presence because the love you speak of is more like dis- caused no interruption, though it might have modegust, contempt and aversion than any thing else. rated the coarseness of the last remark. But the I certainly have no pleasure in his company: I arrow had sped. The words had been uttered, and see no sense in any thing he says; his sentiments, were fixed in Gertrude's mind as a text and interto me, seem low and mean I find nothing in his preter to what might follow. The lady went on. conduct to approve; and I am always glad when" My dear daughter, you must bear in mind your he goes away."

situation and circumstances. You know you have

"Pshaw! That is only because he is your lover, no fortune. The small property left by your father and girls are always so, at first. It is disagree- was dissipated in my widowhood, by the necessary able to be always teased and harassed with atten- expenses of a helpless family; and a young woman tions, which are often ill-timed; but let engage- so situated, must make up her mind to lay aside ment once establish confidence and security, and all romantic notions, and never think of marrying so put an end to that sort of troublesome importu- any man who is not rich enough to establish heria nity, and who knows how soon you might love life. You have my example to serve you as a him ?" warning, though you can never know the trouble "And suppose I should not, Mother; what then and anxiety I experienced, when left by your poor would become of the engagement ?"

"But that is not to be supposed."
"Is love then sure to follow ?"
"I do not exactly say that."

"Then again, my dear Mother, let me ask what
is to become of the engagement if it does not?"
"That will depend on circumstances. If a more
advantageous offer, or one more acceptable and
equally advantageous should be made, it might be
broken off; but, if not, then let the marriage take
place, and let love come afterwards."

The only answer to this was a look of perplexed amazement. Gertrude could hardly believe that she had heard aright. Yet her ears could not have deceived her; and she dared not trust herself to utter to a mother she loved and respected, the only reply to such a proposition that rose to her lips.

father in such narrow circumstances. But I formed what I thought the best plan for you. Instead of trying to save a scanty pittance which must soon be gone, I thought it best to give you an education that might qualify you for the highest places in society; and now, if you throw yourself away upon a poor man, you defeat my plan, disappoint my hopes, and prepare for yourself the same distresses which I experienced."

"But Mother, I have no thought, as yet, of matrying any body, and would rather live single all my life, than marry a man whom I cannot love. I am thankful for your attention to my education, and wish I could have profited by it more. But, my dear Mother, you did not endeavor to improve my mind in order to qualify me to be the wife of one whose principles I disapprove, and whose understanding I cannot respect."

Mrs. Austin felt that she had struck a hard blow. But she had of late learned to blame herself for "Live single all your life!" exclaimed the Moher neglect of this important point in the training ther, giving the go-by to the latter part of this of a daughter; and, far from wishing to recall it, speech. "And how are you to live? Who is to she was glad it had been given, and determined to maintain you, when you have power to do somefollow it up. "My dear child," she continued, "a thing for yourself, and will not? Here is poor Dr. pure-minded and simple girl like you cannot un-Austin with his large family of children to provide derstand these things. None but a married woman for, and nothing but his profession and this little can understand the feelings of a woman toward the farm to depend on: and because he is so good as father of her children." to give you home, and maintain you without charge till this time, you have no right to expect him to do so always."

Gertrude was indeed a pure-minded girl; but there was a significant emphasis in these words, and they were accompanied by a meaning look, The Doctor rose from his seat, walked directly from which her earnest gaze was instantly with- across the room to Gertrude, laid his hand gently drawn. Ideas which the delicate instincts of wo-on her head, and bending over her, kissed her foreman had taught her to chase from her mind had head. "Bless you, my dear noble girl," said he. been summoned by the words of her own mother; I honor your pure and virtuous heart, and love and, with downcast eyes, a burning blush, and a you better than ever for what you have done. I starting tear, she sat the image of wounded deli- have just seen Mr. Crabshaw, and was pleased, cacy and violated modesty. and not at all surprised to learn the result of his

"

"Yes, but I don't reason backward. I know what I am saying, and I did not say that Gertrude was so very superlative as you make her out to be."

addresses. Set you heart at rest, my child. Are give for my opinions were always the best reasons you not my own child? And have you not another against them." and a better father, who, while you cherish your "By no means, my dear. I know few women just and noble sentiments will never forsake you, of better sense. But ladies are ladies,' and I or leave you without a friend and protector when have known the sex too long to be surprised at I am gone? You say right. You are not fit to be hearing a woman, and especially a fine woman, the wife of a weak or vicious man. But there are reason backward." men of sense and virtue among the rich, as well as the poor, and it is not unreasonable to hope that some one of these will be found desirous to grace his establishment, with one worthy to share his "May be so; but I own I am at a loss to fix on wealth and honors, and capable of appreciating his that precise amount of merit in a lady, which must worth. Now dry your tears, dear," he added, condemn her to be sold like cattle in a market, gently raising her, "and go to your chamber, for I while either more or less would leave her free to wish to have some private talk with your mother." follow the dictates of her best feelings, and consult Gertrude moved towards the door, but paused her happiness. If poor Gertrude has been improand looked back at her mother. Her heart sank ved exactly up to that point, I can only regret that as she beheld the fixed and stony look of baffled policy, which all the husband's tenderness had failed to soften. But the warm-hearted girl was not to be repelled by it, and, running to her, she threw herself upon her neck and wept. Then smiling through her tears, she rushed into the extended arms of her kind protector, and, after kissing him with grateful fondness, left the room.

her education was so much attended to."

"There it is again! You know I only mean to say that Gertrude has merit enough to give her a right to expect to make a good match."

"And I mean to say precisely the same thing. The only point of difference between us seems to be, what constitutes a good match. Now I maintain that the only good match is a happy match, and that the chance for happiness is very bad between two people, who are closely connected for life, and who dislike each other."

"But people cannot live on love, and they who love each other must be unhappy when they see each other suffering for the want of comforts and even necessaries."

"Very true. But I see no reason why they should want necessaries, because they love each other."

Without waiting to hear what her husband might wish to communicate, Mrs. Austin immediately began to expostulate at his interference with a mother in the management of her daughter. For this he excused himself by reminding her, that he had been appealed to in a way which made it necessary that he should not be silent, unless he meant to leave Gertrude under the mortifying belief that she was an unwelcome burden to her only protector. The words of Mrs. Austin, as spoken by her, were sufficiently distressing, but, adopted by his silence, they must have rendered the young lady's situation absolutely intolerable. So much her "Well then the matter stands thus. There mother was forced to admit, but she still insisted can be no happiness in marriage without love, or that he had no call to say more than was necessary to save himself from misconstruction, and she boldly threw down the gauntlet in favor of "prudential matches."

"You ought to consider," said the lady, "the education that Gertrude has received. There is not a girl in the land that has had a finer opportunity, and all her teachers give her credit for talents. And then for her looks, she may not be a regular beauty, but you may go far before you find a prettier face or figure."

"You know I am not so absurd as to mean to say that."

without necessaries. The conclusion should be that Gertrude should neither marry a man she does not love, nor one who cannot support her. The question between us is about the first of these propositions, and as I affirm both, you cannot convince me that either is wrong, by proving, what I already believe, that the other is right."

But you

"You are quite too logical for me. know what I mean, and you know that when I speak of necessaries, I do not mean victuals and clothes alone. A fine young woman accustomed to admiration cannot be expected to sit down contented in the chimney corner and card wool to spin her a petticoat. When ambition has been

"All that is very true, my dear, and if I were to speak of Gertrude's pretensions, I should use much stronger language than yours. I know no young woman so beautiful, so intelligent, so accom- cultivated it must have some indulgence, and be plished, so amiable, so good, so altogether lovely as she is, and this is the very reason why I have no mind to see her knocked off, like damaged goods, to the first bidder."

allowed to display itself after marriage in jewels and equipages and entertainments and all that.”

"The whole of this marriage is 'gowd and a carriage,' ," said the husband playfully and then "Ah! That's always the way with you. To added, in a graver tone," My dear Catharine, the hear you talk, one would think that the reasons I'very language you use shows that you are strug

CHAPTER II.

you yourself will shudder at the sound."

"Lord! Mr. Austin how strangely you talk. Let a girl marry prudently, I say, and she will

soon learn to love her husband."

66

Mrs. Austin has said that her daughter was a

gling against the best feelings of your heart, and the convictions of your own excellent understanding. Why else do you use the word Ambition, when you are speaking of Avarice and Ostenta- pretty girl, and her husband said that she was beaution? Ambition itself is a bad passion, though some-tiful. All this was true: and more. She was times ennobled by its objects. But, bad as it is, beautiful and she was fascinating. I am not fond it is so much less hideous and loathsome than the of descriptions, but if I knew wherein consisted others, that they are glad to wear it as a mask. the peculiar charm, the power of which I have so As long as you can cheat yourself with a word, often felt, I would try to describe it. Perhaps it you may make a merit of providing an ambitious was in her manner, in which, with all her cultivamarriage for your daughter. But call it by its tion, and her high and deep thoughts, there was a right name. Call it a mercenary marriage, and childlike simplicity that at once awakened the fond feelings so natural in all good hearts, toward amiable and cheerful children. Perhaps it was in her voice, soft, low, distinct when scarcely audible, winning its way to the ear through other sounds, In its My dear, we are man and wife, and to you I so that no word of hers was ever lost. can talk plainly, and present ideas which should saddest tones it was never complaining, and in its never enter a maiden's mind but in the privacy more cheerful moods there was a playful melody of her chamber. Reflect a moment on all that reminding the hearer of the careless and rapid disis implied in what you have just said. It may be true of a coarse, vulgar-minded, sensual, brutish woman. But is it true of the pure, the refined, the delicate female, true to the instincts of her sex, which prompt to yield the person to him who has the heart, and to no other? Can such a woman look upon the man who has been forced on her by the tyranny of friends or the tyranny of circumstances, but as one who has profaned her person, rifled her charms, and degraded and dishonored her in her own eyes? I do not think of your sex more highly than they deserve. I will not offend you with the appearance of a doubt, by asking if you married me, depending on marriage to bring love. But you have been twice married; and when you gave your virgin charms to Mr. Courtney, was it before your heart was his ?"

The tears sprung to the yet beautiful eyes of Mrs. Austin, and her husband kissed them away. "Those tears," said he, "are an answer to my question. A woman, happy in a second marriage, does not weep to remember a first husband who was not master of her heart as well as her person. None, better than yourself, can understand the workings of a virtuous female heart. Let things be called by their right names, and none will feel more sensibly, that, apart from the arbitrary conventions of society, Prudence not Virtue makes the chief distinction between the despised streetwalker, and the woman who sells herself in marriage."

tinctness of the wild notes of the mocking-bird. Perhaps it was in her eye. I never saw but one other such, and the light of that, (it was the light of life to me) is quenched for ever. It was blue and calm and deep as a well. It was not always bright, but the thoughts that rose in her mind glanced through it, as the light that glances from a window, casts back the pale moon-beams, and substitutes a ray from within for the cold reflection from without. In short she was lovely, and she was beloved.

Henry Austin was several years older than her. He was the eldest son of Dr. Austin, the first child of an early marriage; and, at the time of his father's union with the mother of Gertrude, he was entering on manhood and its duties. Bred to the bar, he had united his labors to those of his father, for the support of the numerous family whose comfort mainly depended on them. He was a handsome youth, of high principles, fine talents, great steadiness, and strength of character, and honorable ambition. His education qualified him for the dangerous task of assisting in that of his new sister (for so he called her) and it was from his lips that she learned those last and finishing lessons on which the final character of the mind so much depends. It is an old story-as old as Abelard and Eloisa-that a girl of ingenuous and curious mind, under the instruction of a bold and original thinker, is apt to learn-and to teach-one lesson not dreamed of in the philosophy of those The argumentum ad hominem is a troublesome who bring them together. There is nothing very thing to either sex. To a lady it is unanswerable, seductive in the rudiments of learning, and a young especially when accompanied by a compliment. lady is not apt to fall in love with her teacher of Mrs. Austin if not convinced, was silent. Poor grammar, geography, mathematics or natural phiGertrude heard no more of prudent marriages, and losophy. But when we come to the Philosophy of secure in the wild freedom of her guileless heart, History, and the metaphysics of the affections, to her gratitude to her kind and generous protector Taste and Belles Lettres and the beauties of poe

was unbounded.

try, then, if the teacher be a man of genius and spirit, and the pupil apt and enthusiastic, circam

stances can hardly exist, which shall prevent them | think to analyse the character of her love for him from loving. What can be more natural? To the she called her brother; and, whatever it might be, inquistive mind there is no pleasure like that arising her own so exactly corresponded with it, that her from the perception of new truths. To the benevo- heart felt nothing of that void to which those are lent, few things are so sweet as to impart truth to doomed who pour out their affections on the insenthe candid and ingenuous seeker. Thus each be-sible, and receive nothing in return. I am not sure comes to the other a source of enjoyment, welling that the delights of mutual love are ever so sweet, up from the depths of the heart, like a perennial spring, pure, fresh and inexhaustible. The whole philosophy of love is that it disposes us to live with those who can make us happy, and to be happy with those with whom we live. Hence, if, after giving the characters of Henry and Gertrude, I were to say they did not love one another, I ought not to be believed.

I do not mean to say that they knew it. It was not until she began to be courted that he thought of her as a being to be married; and hence, until then, he never thought of marrying her. Then, indeed, he learned the secret of his heart; but he kept it to himself. She was slower in discovering hers. Teased by the addresses of those alone who were unacceptable to her, the idea of marrying any body was only made absurd to her mind by their importunities. Thinking of marriage only in connexion with disagreeable people, she could only think of it as a disagreeable thing; and it was not until she had been repeatedly told that she must marry somebody, that it occurred to her, that she would rather marry "Brother Henry," with whom she lived so happily, than any body else. But, at the time of which I write, she had not yet come to this conclusion, and said truly that she had no thought of marrying any one.

as in that short interval in which the true nature of our feelings is not fully understood. Then we live altogether in the present moment, without casting one glance toward that dark future, where, though nothing is seen distinctly, ugly shadows will sometimes flit through the gloom, and scare us into undefined apprehensions. The longer that interval is protracted, the more deeply does the passion sink into the soul. The mind sleeps securely in the sweet dream, and when it awakes, it finds every fibre of the heart tied down by the Liliputian fingers of the tiny imps, that do the bidding of the God of Love.

But others very often detect this state of feeling while the parties are wholly unconscious of it. The keen eye of Mrs. Austin was not blind to what was passing. Though so far influenced by the sentiments of her husband, as to have relinquished the idea of selling her daughter in loveless marriage, she was not at all shaken in the opinion that wealth, as well as love, is necessary to connubial happiness. Her first husband had been a man of small property, but fine talents; and he had married her, when fairly entered on a career of professional success, which promised, not only affluence, but distinction. He had realized but little, though no man's prospects were more flatIt is a common remark, that the politic often tering, when suddenly death put an end to his defeat their own designs. A strenuous effort to career, and left her a widow in narrow circumovercome an opposing principle or feeling must stances. With the difficulties of her situation she succeed, or it imparts its own energy to the reaction struggled resolutely, practising economy in every of the mind, which thus throws off the assailant thing, but the education of her daughter, in whom farther from his object. Such was the effect of she hoped to live over again the life of ambition the decided demonstration made by Mrs. Austin in which had been thus cut short. I here use the favor of Mr. Crabshaw. The mind of Gertrude word in its true sense. For herself, Mrs. Austin soon freed itself from the gross ideas suggested by was indeed an ambitious woman. It was only the gross hint of her mother, but the thought of when seeking to regulate the destiny of her daughsuch a man as the father of her children remained. ter that she could succeed in cheating herself into What then? Were they to resemble him? To wear that delusion, which dignifies avarice with the his stolid look, relieved only by his silly smile? name of a passion less grovelling, though perhaps not To talk his prosing truisms or vapid niaiseries? less fatal. She was ambitious; and, had her husTo inherit his purse-proud arrogance and his petty band lived, and had his life fulfilled the promise of meanness? If she was to have children, she would his youth, her heart would have asked no more rather have them like any body else; and of all than to share his honors, in circumstances far short men, whom would she so soon have them resemble of affluence. But, when he was taken from her, as him, whom she saw the beloved and admired of she naturally felt less the disappointment of ambiall, the pride of his father's heart, and the copy of tious aspirations than the loss of indulgences, his virtues? Such thoughts will come; and the to which, in reliance on his growing fortunes, he result of it was, that, for the next twenty-four had permitted her to habituate herself; and her hours, the image of Henry Austin was more in the mind of Gertrude than it ever had been before.

fall from that place in fashionable and wealthy society, which had seemed her proper position. To that pure and innocent and sunny mind such Hence she had learned to doubt the truth of the thoughts brought nothing painful. She did not maxim that a good mind, a good education and a