and it was conversation:-the exercise of the mind-the collision of wit-the interchange of opinion-the expression of sentiment;—and not the idle and frivolous chit-chat, nor the oftentimes mischievous and envenomed gossip, that is sometimes so miscalled. After the tea-things were removed, and the ladies had settled themselves to their several employments, Mr. Chauncey, at the request of Mrs. Atkins, read aloud the best of Mrs. Opie's tales, namely, "White Lies." Mr. Chauncey's voice was rich and mellow, his intonations and emphases perfect; so that whatever he read produced the full effect that the author intended. His present little auditory paid him the compliment of the most profound silence, till he finished the tale, and closed the volume. "That is a faultless story," said Mr. Atkins. "Do you not think so?" All, except Miss Eustace, expressed their approbation of it in warm terms. She remained silent. "What says my little Abby to it?" said Mr. Atkins. "Do you dissent from the common opinion?" "I think it highly interesting and instructive," Miss Eustace replied, "but not faultless." "Pray point out the faults," said Mr. Atkins. "Let us have the benefit of your critique upon it." Miss Eustace blushed, and begged to be excused. She was sorry she had expressed any feeling of disapprobation. But Mr. Atkins persisted that she should point out the defects she discovered, in which he was joined by the rest of the circle. Blushing still more deeply, Miss Eustace said"Clara could not have felt true friendship for Eleanor, or she would not have manifested such indelicate joy, when the latter was proved so base." "Clara's own explanation, that she had a dearer friend, at whose escape she rejoiced, was a sufficient apology." This opinion, though differently expressed, was uttered by every one at the same moment, Mr. Chauncey excepted. "That, as I think, is another defect," said Miss Eustace. "Was there no indelicacy in her permitting that dearer friend to see that she loved him, and calculated on the offer of his hand, while he yet had made no declaration of attachment to her?" "Her amiable sincerity would atone for fault, if it could be called a fault," said Atkins. "In what other instance do you think she has done it, Miss Eustace?" asked Mr. Chauncey. "O, in many," Miss Eustace replied. "Any one who understands the true female character, and who will read her works carefully, will easily detect them." "O, name them-name them, Abby," said Mr. Atkins. "Yes, name some other," said Mrs. Atkins. "There is one in Madaline' that now occurs to me," said Miss Eustuce," that struck me as grossly indelicate; and, indeed, not true to nature. Madaline says of herself, that she sang louder than usual one evening when she supposed that Mr. Falconer was listening behind the hedge, that he might hear her." " "Was that false to nature, as well as indelicate, Abby?" asked Mr. Atkins, Coloring more highly than ever, while her silken lashes fell over her eyes, as if to conceal their deep expression, she replied— "I should have supposed that the idea of the proximity of one so dear to her, under such circumstances, would have rendered it impossible for her to sing as loud as usual, if indeed she could sing at all.” Mr. Atkins, who was seated by her, whispered in her ear-" What happy fellow taught you so much of the effect of the tender passion, Abby?" This question covered her whole face and neck with a glow of carmine; but in a low, and somewhat tremulous tone, she said— "May not instinct teach a woman how she should probably be affected under such circumstances?" Possibly," said Mr. Atkins-" but for all that, I do suspect you most grievously." All the little party continued to converse in the most animated manner, Miss Eustace excepted. She was making a feather screen for Mrs. Atkins, and she now applied herself to her work with the most persevering diligence, and in perfect silence. "Do let us hear the sound of your voice again, Abby," said Mr. Atkins, in an under tone. "You have now maintained the most profound silence for more than an hour. Pray speak once again." "I will," said Miss Eustace, "for I am just going to ask Augusta if my screen will do." "I can tell you that it will," said Mr. Atkins, that" it is very handsomely made." Mr. "Hardly, I think," said Miss Eustace. "I always was sorry the passage was written, especially as it was written by a woman, and have ever been inclined to jump it when reading the tale. I like not that female delicacy should be sacrificed, even at the shrine of sincerity. But Mrs. Opie not unfrequently sins against the more refined and retiring delicacy of her sex." But Miss Leigh differed from him in opinion. "It is not so pretty as it might be, Abby," said she. "The different colored feathers are not so arranged as to produce the best effect." "Are they not?" said Miss Eustace. "I have been trying to make it as pretty as possible. But you are correct, Augusta," added she, after holding the screen in different points of view; "it is really a gaudy looking thing. I will give it to some child who needs a fan, and will be delighted with its gay colors, and make another for my | ever since I was drawn on to say so much about friend." Mrs. Opie's works." "So I thought," said Miss Eustace, "until Augusta helped to open my eyes to its glaring defects. No, no-I will make another for you. Should you carry this, it might be thought that a Sachem had robbed some fair one of his tribe, and laid the spoils at your feet. I should take no pleasure in giving you anything so ill-lookingin such bad taste." "Just as you please, dear," said Mrs. Atkins, "though I am sorry that you should give yourself so much trouble." "I shall not esteem it a trouble," said Miss Eustace, as she resumed her seat, and at the same time her taciturnity. Miss Leigh was peculiarly happy this evening. Mr. Chauncey did not, it is true, converse with ber any more than usual, nor say anything to her that he might not have said to another; but there was something in his manner, in the tone of his voice, and in the expression of his eyes, when he addressed her, that betrayed his admiration, his growing preference. Mrs. Atkins observed it with much pleasure. She truly loved Miss Eustace, and would not have been dissatisfied had she become the object of Mr. Chauncey's choice; yet her cousin Augusta was the one she had in her own mind selected for his wife. But Mr. Atkins saw it with something like regret. Though he really thought that Miss Leigh was, as he had said to Mr. Chauncey, a fine, a noble minded girl, yet she was not his favorite of the two young ladies. He loved Mr. Chauncey with a warm attachment; and Miss Eustace, according to his opinion, was the very person to secure his happi "The only time you have spoken this evening!" said Mr. Atkins. "Truly you have great cause to be ashamed of your loquacity! Why, Augusta said more words to him in half an hour to-night, than he has heard you utter since you have been here!" "It may be so," said Miss Eustace; "but you may depend on it, Mr. Atkins, that I will never speak a word when I should otherwise be silent, nor say anything different from what I should otherwise say, to secure the attention, or meet the approbation of any gentleman in the world!" "You are incorrigible!" said Mr. Atkins. "And another thing—either you dislike Horace, or are attached to some other man. I suspect the latter. I have watched you a little this evening, and noticed a shade of sadness-of melancholy, on your brow, that I never saw there before. I do not wish, my dear Abby, from idle curiosity, to pry into the secrets of your heart,-but tell me— is not my suspicion correct?" "I do most truly assure you it is not," Miss Eustace had just time to reply, ere Miss Leigh re-entered the parlor, and the former immediately left the room. “O, how thankful I am," thought she, as she shut herself in her own chamber-" how thankful I am that he framed his question as he did! otherwise what could I have done? Dislike Horace Chauncey! Love some other man! O, would the former were true! Would I had passed through the same Lethe in which he seems to have been plunged! But no matter-I will soon go home, and then strive to grow forgetful myself; for never will I try to refresh his memory! Sad! said Mr. Atkins? I will not be sad—at least no ̈ ́ one shall see me so-I will not be so if I can help it!" Humming a cheerful air, which, however, lost something of its sprightliness, though none of its melody, as she warbled it, she returned to the parlor. As day succeeded day, the visits of Mr. Chauncey became more frequent, and the interest Miss Leigh inspired more obvious. The seat next her he always, if possible, secured; if that was occupied, the back of her chair frequently afforded him a support. He interested himself in all her pursuits-looked over the book she was reading-examined and admired her work,—and never seemed completely happy unless near her, and having some object of mutual interest. Meantime, despite Miss Eustace's resolution, she was frequently sad; and notwithstanding her efforts at concealment, which led her to appear unnaturally gay, Mr. Atkins saw it. He was observing her closely, but silently; not even suggesting to Mrs. Atkins that any change was coming over her friend. But he noticed that the moment the shells were exceedingly small, and required great skill and taste so to arrange them, as at once to match them with precision, and display their beauty to the greatest advantage. after the frolic or the joke was passed, a serious- as an ornament for the mantel-piece. This last ness rested upon her features, as unnatural to them was quite an arduous undertaking, as many of as frivolity was to her manners. When Mr. Chauncey was present, she indeed appeared not much different from formerly, except that her cheek was less frequently dimpled with a smile, her eyes were more intently fixed on her work, and her silence, if possible, was more profound than ever. Sometimes, when a pang of peculiar bitterness shot through her heart, she would resolve on closing her visit immediately; but when she had hinted such an intention to Mrs. Atkins, that lady seemed so much hurt, and so strenuously opposed such a measure, that she abandoned the idea. One morning as Miss Leigh was seated in the recess which was devoted to her use while erecting her pyramid, Miss Eustace came, as she frequently did, to overlook her for a few minutes. She looked on in silence for some time, and then said "It is the most beautiful thing, Augusta, that I ever saw. But is it quite perpendicular?" All the little circle at Mr. Atkins' watched the progress of this pyramid with interest, and with admiration of its beauty, and the taste of the fair architect. Mr. Chauncey was almost a daily witness of its increasing height, and certainly not behind any one in the praise he bestowed on it. He would sit for an hour together, assorting the Yet shells, and admiring the delicate fingers that fitted how could she stay three months longer,-which them in their places so neatly; above all, admiring was the term originally fixed for her visit,-wit- the power that enabled the architect to carry on a nessing that which she witnessed-that which was work that seemed to require so much care and inconstantly enhancing her disquietude? Often ingenuity, while her mind seemed quite free to the retirement of her chamber, she would take engage in any subject of conversation, however herself severely to task. "How foolish-how foreign to her employment. worse than foolish I have been, thus year after year to let one idea engross my heart, without ever looking forward, for a moment, to a result like this! Common sense, common prudence, common discretion would have taught me better! Yet I consulted neither; but permitted my foolish imagination to indulge itself at the expense of my peace. Childish infatuation! But I will thus indulge myself no longer. This attachment shall be rooted out! He and Augusta will make a noble couple. I see it—much as my heart rebels against it. They will love and be happy! What if she will not study his every wish, as I could not help doing, and lose her very being in his! he will love her; and the observation of her shining quali- "It is really the most beautiful thing I ever ties, will leave him no time to regret the absence saw," repeated Miss Eustace; and soon after took of trifling and minor attentions or virtues. I a seat on the other side of the room. must, I will forget this dream of years, which else She had been but a short time settled to her will involve me in misery, if not in guilt. Too work, when Mr. Chauncey made his appearance; much already has my heart been divided between and just passing the compliments of the morning, heaven and earth! and richly do I deserve this he drew a chair towards Miss Leigh's table, and suffering, for permitting a creature, however ex-seated himself beside her. alted in virtue-and O, how exalted he is! how far above all others that I have seen! yet how wicked I have been to permit him to engross so much of that love, which before His sacred altar, I promised should be first of all for my God! Father," she cried, while she raised her tearful eyes to heaven," draw my affections to thyself, though my heartstrings should be severed!" Both Miss Leigh and Miss Eustace were much attached to Mrs. Atkins, and were frequently employed in making some fancy article-some elegant trifle, to leave behind them as tokens of their regard. Miss Eustace had finished a screen, which could not but satisfy the most delicate taste, and was now engaged in embroidering a white satin reticule for her friend; while Miss Leigh was making a pyramid of various kinds of shells, Perfectly so," said Miss Leigh. "Perhaps it is the position from which I now view it, that makes it seem to lean a little toward your right hand,” said Miss Eustace. "It undoubtedly is," said Miss Leigh;" for it is precisely perpendicular." "What are you doing, Miss Leigh?" said he, in a tone of surprise, as soon as he had had time to observe that instead of adding shells to the fabric, she was deliberately removing them: "Have you made any mistake?" Abby has been finding fault with my work," she replied. Her words seemed to almost choke her, and her eyes sparkled with unusual fire, while a very bright spot burned on her cheek. "Fault! what fault?" asked Mr. Chauncey. In an instant Miss Eustace was beside the table, and catching the hand that was about to remove another shell, she cried— "Dear Augusta, what do you mean! you must not remove another shell from this beautiful fabric!" With a motion not perfectly gentle, Miss Leigh withdrew her hand from Miss Eustace's grasp, and in silence proceeded to remove the shell. "Do persuade her, Mr. Chauncey," said Miss Eustace, with eagerness," Do persuade her to let alone this work of destruction. I only asked her if it was quite perpendicular; and no doubt it was my point of observation that made it appear other-that rendered her far less beautiful than usual. wise. Dear Augusta," she added, throwing her arms around her friend's neck, "do desist from your present purpose. I wish I had kept my foolish tongue quiet. You know not how sorry I am that I made the remark!" of discontent, settled on her features,—and a certain something lurked about her eye and brow, which, to say the least, was not attractive. There was something, too, in the closing of her mouth, But Miss Leigh would not yield. Releasing herself from Miss Eustace's arms, she returned to her work of demolition, while she said— "I shall take it to pieces, Miss Eustace. I like not that anything should go from beneath my hand that is not perfect!" "That is a right principle," thought Mr. Chauncey," and is an excuse for" He stopped short, for he found himself in danger of having his judgment warped by the emotions of his heart. Fixing his eyes on the pyramid, he fell into a train of musing. "It is quite perpendicular, is it not, Mr. Chauncey?" said Miss Eustace, supposing his mind engrossed by the object he seemed so intently viewing. "Is it not quite perpendicular?" she repeated. "It is not," said Mr. Chauncey, roused by her reiterated question to examine the pyramid with a critical eye" it is not; though I did not notice its declination till led to look for it. The defect, however, is so slight, that few persons probably would notice it." "You will not take it to pieces, Augusta?" said Miss Eustace, in an entreating tone. All this might have arisen from the unpleasantness of the task of taking to pieces that which she had put together with so much care and pains. But be the cause what it might, Mr. Chauncey was paralyzed by the effect. He made one or two efforts at conversation, as he found silence very embarrassing. He tasted not that rich enjoyment which he sometimes had, while sitting in perfeet silence beside the object of his admiration. But his efforts to converse were unavailing, as Miss Leigh answered only by monosyllables. wished Miss Eustace would do something to break the spell; but she had resumed her seat and her work on the other side of the room, and was silent and unobtrusive as usual. Mrs. Atkins at length came in, and Mr. Chauncey hoped that relief was now at hand; but instead of this, the unpleasant explanation of Miss Leigh's retrograde work must be made. He "What a pity it is!" said Mrs. Atkins. "Why did not some one of us observe it sooner, to save you so much trouble, Augusta?" To this Miss Leigh made no reply, but with her mouth more firmly closed than ever, continued for a few minutes longer to undo her work. Increasing dissatisfaction, however, was legibly written on her countenance, till at length, closing her hands over the pyramid, she said, "This is too irksome!" and at the same instant pressed her hands together, and reduced the fabric to a com Miss Leigh removed her work to a greater dis-plete ruin. tance from her, and turning it slowly round, examined it carefully. "O, how could you do so?” cried Mrs. Atkins. "I will make one for you, Susan, after I go home," said Miss Leigh. "I could not go on with this-all satisfaction in it was forever destroyed!" "Yes, I must take it down, Abby-at least thus far," said she, placing her finger on the pyramid. "The defect is not so slight as Mr. Chauncey says. Every one will observe it. I should If Miss Leigh ever appeared lovely and fascihave done so myself as soon as I had completed it. nating—if she ever appeared to be all that a woI am very glad you noticed it so seasonably, not-man should be, it was for the fortnight that sucwithstanding my petulency-my ill-humor. Will you forgive me, Abby?" she added, as she looked up with an expression of regret on her features, while she held up her lips for a kiss. "I have nothing to forgive," said Miss Eustace, as she placed her lips on those of her friend with the warm kiss of affection. ceeded the demolition of the pyramid; and Horace Chauncey at length surrendered himself to the force of her attractions. And yet his heart had not the perfect consent of his judgment; or rather, he feared that if his judgment were perfectly wellinformed, its sentence would be against him. "And yet, what have I to fear?" thought he. Mr. Chauncey drew a long breath, as if relieved" The strong attachment of her friends speaks from an oppressive burden. volumes in her praise, even did she need such tesYet notwithstanding this speedy reconciliation, timony in her favor. And do I not, myself, conMr. Chauncey's visit was not pleasant as usual. stantly witness the vigor of her intellect--the corMiss Leigh seemed too intent on taking her work rectness of her opinions—the delicacy of her feelto pieces, to converse with her usual vivacity. ings-the tenderness of her sympathies? What Nor did her countenance wear exactly its most can I ask more? Where else can I find as much?” agreeable expression. In a few minutes after the He sighed deeply as he added-" Mrs. Atkins mutual kiss had been given, a look of uneasiness-spoke truth-I have become fastidious. I am ex pecting that perfection on earth, which is to be ing to the one side, sometimes to the other. The found only in heaven. And am I so perfect my-two gentlemen were as much interested as the fair self as to have a right to expect perfection in a antagonists; but they had taken different sides. wife? Alas, how many defects will you have to overlook in me, Augusta, should you ever be mine! and mine you must be! I can-I will hesitate no longer! This very evening you shall know the wishes of my heart!" He immediately opened his writing-desk, filled a page with the avowal of his attachment, and closed by the offer of his hand. On entering his friend's parlor in the evening, Mr. Chauncey found the young ladies engaged at chess; Mr. Atkins seated by them, watching the progress of the game, while Mrs. Atkins was occupied with a book in another part of the room. He was so often with them, that he came in and went out almost like one of the family, so that a bow and a "good evening" were all that was necessary before he mingled in the group, and became a participate in whatever was on hand. He now stationed himself behind Miss Leigh's chair, and fastened his eyes on the chess-board. For some time, however, he could not fix his mind on the game, so much were his thoughts engrossed by the important letter that seemed to burn in his pocket. "Our fair friends are so equally matched," said Mr. Atkins, "that there is much interest in watching the contest." Mr. Atkins' sympathies all being enlisted for Miss Eustace-Mr. Chauncey's, of course, for Miss Leigh. Both, however, were too gentlemanly too express their feelings by word or sign. But at length the game seemed drawing to a close, and again in Miss Leigh's favor, when a skilful move on Miss Eustace's part, turned the whole face of the battle. Miss Leigh, however, seemed not aware of it, so intent was she on the manœuvre she had been performing. But Mr. Chauncey's heart beat quick, as he saw all her danger; and when she placed her fingers on a piece, to have moved which would have decided her fate at once, his self-command forsook him, and uttering an emphatic "Ah!" he turned suddenly from the table. He could not endure to witness her defeat! Miss Leigh suspended her movement, but she was too much excited to see clearly, and after a momentary pause, she made the fatal move. The next instant she saw her error-it was too muchand at the moment when Mr. Chauncey resumed his post, with a flaming cheek and flashing eyes, she swept her arm across the table, exclaiming— "I will never play another game of chess while I live!" Miss Eustace looked up with an expression of anxiety on her features; Mr. Atkins with one of "Have you frequently played since you have undisguised displeasure; while the countenance of been here" inquired Mr. Chauncey. "Very seldom," Miss Leigh replied. "I thought so," said Mr. Chauncey, "or 1 must before this have found you thus engaged." "They played last evening," said Mr. Atkins, "and had a warmly contested battle." "And who was conqueror?" asked Mr. Chauncey. "O, Augusta," said Miss Eustace, looking up, "but much against my will, I assure you. I never tried harder for victory in my life." "Then you bore your defeat admirably," said Mr. Atkins. "For my part, I thought you quite indifferent about it, you appeared so well satisfied after you had yielded the contest." "O, yes,—after I had yielded," said Miss Eustace. "The time of trial, you know, is when one fears that they shall be obliged to yield. After all, there is about as much satisfaction in being beaten as in beating; for one can scarcely help sympathizing with an antagonist who has fought bravely but unsuccessfully." "I am happy to learn that you so much enjoy being beaten," said Miss Leigh, smiling. "You think I shall soon have that enjoyment again?" said Miss Eustace," and I shall, indeed, unless I pay more attention to the game." Mr. Chauncey spoke amazement and consternation. Miss Leigh instantly left the table, and walked toward the fire, followed by Miss Eus tace. "Who is the victor to-night, Abby?" inquired Mrs. Atkins, raising her eyes from her book. "Neither," said Miss Eustace, in a very soft and low tone; "we did not finish the game." "You know better, Miss Eustace!" said Miss Leigh; "you know you were yourself victorious, and I will never play another game of chess while I live!" Her voice, though but slightly raised, had the tone of passionate excitement; and her words were scarcely uttered, ere she burst into a paroxism of tears. Miss Eustace again looked up with an expression of distress-stood suspended a moment as if in doubt what to do, and then silently left the room. "Are you petrified?" said Mr. Atkins, as he turned round, and observed Mr. Chauncey, standing immoveable beside the chess-table, his eyes riveted upon it. The question of Mr. Atkins roused him, and drawing out his watch, he said, while his voice betrayed much emotion "It is later than I thought-I must bid you good night!" For a full hour from this time they made their "O, not yet, Horace," said Mr. Atkins. “That moves in perfect silence-victory sometimes lean-unlucky game of chess has engrossed the whole |