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answered, that Mrs. Somers was well, and had en speak to your governess. She is very bashful, and you trusted her with a letter, which she would deliver to her must excuse her. You will find her quite a different as soon as her baggage was brought in.
child from Mary-much more tractable. Mary, I am “Run-iy, Sylvia, and see if Miss Beverly's things sorry to say, is not all I could wish-you will find her are in. I tremble with eagerness to read the missive of difficult to manage I can do nothing with her.” my beloved Louisa.”
“Oh, mother!" said Mary, bursting in tears. The letter was soon produced, and Sylvia held the “There it is! you great baby, you cry if any one light, while her mistress perused the contents of it. looks at you. Go to bed-get out of my sight--you
“What a horrid cramped hand Louisa writes ! I de cannot behave yourself.” clare I can scarcely make out what she says."
Thus was a child of great promise, and extreme sen“Do you think so ?” said Constance. “I admire her sibility, treated by her only parent, while the two who writing very much. She usually writes well." needed correction were suffered to act as they pleased,
A flush passed over the face of Mrs. Mathews, and and completely tyrannized over their weak mother. she hastily answered—“I am no judge perhaps of good “I flatter myself, that you will find Louisa all you could writing: I usually judge a hand by the ease with which desire a pupil to be,” continued Mrs. Mathews. “Her one reads it."
mind is admirable, I assure you: I am qualified to proConstance felt that she had offended, and was at a nounce a judgment on it, for I have taught her for some loss what to say, when two children burst into the time myself. Come here, my dear love, and let Miss room. The boy was screaming at the top of his voice- Beverly hear how well you understand geography.”
“Ma-ma-has that 'oman come to make me stay in Miss Louisa sullenly approached her mother. the house, and learn bad lessons ? I won't learn—I will “Tell me, my dear love, what is the shape of the play with Ponto, and go with big Jim to shoot squir- earth ?” rels.”
“ Flat." “Yes, my dear love, you may, but you can say your “Flat ! my love, you forget-try again." lessons also, won't you my son ? I know mama's pet, “I say it is flat; for, if it wasn't, we'd all fall off it.” her own dear pet, will be a good child and mind Miss “Fie, fie, Louisa ! you should remember better. Beverly, won't he ?”
Now tell me where the Mississippi (that great river we “No, I won',” screamed the child. "I don't choose sailed down in the steamboat) empties? to learn, nor to mind nobody but big Jim, when he tells “In the Pacific Ocean." me to come with him and shoot squirreis.”
“Very well said ; now come, and give mama a kiss. “Go away then, you naughty boy. Mama won't Now, tell Miss Beverly, what range of mountains that have you for her boy. I will send you out to mammy is which crosses Africa.” Sue, and tell her to keep you with the little negroes.” “The Andes," said the child,“the loftiest mountains
“But I shan't go, Miss. I'll knock mammy Sue in the world." down.” So saying, the young hopeful rushed out “There is a charming child. You will really be again.
quite a prodigy. Go now, with Sylvia, and get an In the meantime, the little girl had drawn close to orange for your cleverness.” Constance, and was gazing on her with a mixture of Away ran Miss Louisa, and Constance sat in mute admiration and fear.
astonishment, at the extent of the mother's ignorance, “Come here, my dear,” said she to the child, “I while Mrs. Mathews went on: wish to become acquainted with you."
“Louisa is so much like her father, that really my She approached timidly, and raised her large soft heart glows with unremitting affection for her. Like eyes to her face. She was about eight years of age, the tendrils of the vine clasping the oak, she has wound with a fairy-like figure, and a face which promised to herself around my heart until it would be death to part be beautiful. Pleased with the softness of Miss Bev- us. Oh, Miss Beverly, no affection yields so much deerly's manner, she was soon won to stand beside her, light as parental affection! To see the sweet blosand answer the questions she put to her. Mrs. Ma- soms opening around us, gives brightness to the darkest thews left the room to call her eldest daughter, and the hours.” little girl came closer to her new acquaintance, and Constance assented with a smile, hoping that somewhispered
thing like natural feeling was concealed beneath all this “Mama has gone for Louisa-pray do not love her affectation and folly. Alas, for poor Constance ! conso much more than you do me. I should like you to demned to associate with a being so much beneath her love me."
in the scale of intellect, she looked forward to a life of “Why should you think so, my dear? If you are wearying duties uncheered by companionship of mind good, I shall love you both alike.”
or feeling. She wept bitterly on retiring to rest; but “Ah, no-you cannot. I try to be good, but mama she gradually became more calm as she prayed for suploves Loo the best. She never calls her a little pest, or port from "Him who heareth the orphan's cry,” and refuses to kiss her.”
resigned herself to his care. Constance imprinted a kiss on the fair brow, whose The following morning was calm and bright—the brightness was shadowed, even at her age, by the cul- sun was just gilding the tree tops, as she stepped out pable preference of a parent for one child before another. on the gallery and looked around her. It was yet
At that moment, Mrs. Mathews returned, leading by early in autumn, and the trees wore not their “sere and the hand a girl of ten—the very counterpart of herself. yellow" livery. Allingham manor was one of the finest “I bring you a new claimant on your affections, Miss plantations in the state, and the late proprietor had Beverly. My dear Louisa, hold up your head, and I spared no expense to render it a pleasant residence for
his family. The house was spacious and airy: in front | learn that charming ode to the Robin Redbreast, which of it was a large reservoir of water, surrounded by the her sister repeated for Col. Maitland the last time he most beautiful shrubbery. China trees, with their was here." bright green leaves and yellow berries, were scattered “But mother,” said Mary, timidly, "you know Col. in groupes over the large yard, beyond which, were the Maitland laughed at Louisa's mistakes, and told me not extensive fields, spreading on three sides, as far as the to learn to make myself ridiculous.” eye could reach, white with the cotton balls, which “No, Miss, I did not know it. Ridiculous, indeed! about a hundred negroes were engaged in gathering, I would thank Col. Maitland not to be making you while their merry songs greeted the ear.
more unmanageable than you already are, by such While leaning against one of the pillars which sup- speeches. I shall tell him of it. Ridiculous, indeed! ported the roof of the gallery, and thinking of her Come, Miss Beverly-1 hear the bell for breakfast; let absent friends, Constance felt her dress pulled, and us go in." looking down, she saw Mary with a bouquet of beauti During the time they were at the table, Mrs. Maful flowers--many of them entirely new to her. thews continued to pour forth the same volume of
“Thank you, my dear. This is a charming bunch of words, and Constance wondered when she found time flowers-I must pay you for them with a kiss. As she to eat. The silly conversation of the mother was varied spoke, she seated herself beside the child on the upper by occasional reproofs to her daughters for any little step of the gallery. Mary threw her arms around her, improprieties ; but the son Bud (as she very affection. and, exclaiming, “ Ah, if you will only love me!" burst ately called him,) was allowed to act as he pleased. into a hysterical passion of tears.
He reached over the table and helped himself-called “ Poor little dear,” said Constance, folding her in her to the attendants every moment to bring him what he arms, "you must have been strangely neglected by could not get hold of, and ended by throwing a fork at those whose duty it was to love and cherish you. I one who did not move fast enough to please him. will love you, indeed, my sweet Mary, if you will be a “What independence ! what charming spirit he has!" good child.”
said the mother, addressing Miss Beverly. "I would “Indeed--indeed, I will try. Father loved me, and not check him for the world; it would destroy the germ why should not you ?"
of that dignity and independence which the manly chaAt that moment, Mrs. Mathews issued from the racter should always possess. My son, I flatter myhouse. After the usual salutations of the morning, she self, will be a noble fellow." commenced
“How am I ever to manage this creature ?” thought “So you have been looking around you this morning. the dismayed Constance. “He seems to me beyond I hope you are pleased. I flatter myself that Alling- the pale of civilization." ham manor has one of the most demanding prospects in When she was ready to go into the school-room, she the country, and I consider myself a good judge, as I inquired of Mrs. Mathews if her son must be taken have travelled entirely over the state of Rhode Island, in school with the two girls ? and through New York and Ohio, besides coming down "Oh, by all means. I will send him in, but you must the Mississippi: I call that being pretty much of a tra- be kind and affectionate to the dear child. He bas neveller. My poor dear husband was always wishing to ver been used to severe measures.
I will accompany travel : he desired to go to Europe. Every body talks you to the library, which I have converted into a schoolof Europe, and wants to go there; but for my part, room. Here is food for the mind,” continued she, as when I go a travelling, I am determined to be singular ; they entered a large room, the walls of which were I shall not put my foot in Europe, I shall only go to lined with book cases and maps. She threw open the Italy. That is the land of “beauty and of bloom,” as doors of a case filled with novels and poetry. “Here that divine writer, Sir Walter Scott, says. Have you you will find everything in the literary line. Here are ever read his “Pleasures of Hope ?"
The Forty Thieves, written by the inimilable Scoti. I “No, madam," said Constance, I did not know that wonder if he was a native of Turkey-he knew so such a work had been written by him."
much about the manners and customs of the Turks. Miss Beverly, you don't say so. Mrs. Ah no, I forgot; as you are not or fale to the literary Somers told me that you knew everything, and I cer- characters of the day, as the French say, I will tell tainly expected you to be acquainted with the litera- you his history. He was not a Turk, but an Englishture of the day. I wish you to form the literary taste man, who kept guard over Napoleon, and wrote his life of my daughters. Loo is passionately fond of poetry, from his own confessions. Because his name is Scott, and already repeats some sweet poems by heart.” he took a fancy to Scotland, and wrote some pretty
“I am pleased to hear that she has a taste for read things about the people. The Cotter's Saturday Night ing, as I shall have less difficulty in teaching her. and Tam O'Shanter are his most creditable producYour youngest daughter appears to be a very interest- tions, though for my part I think he is very much overing child."
rated. What can be more vulgar than to write about “That is what Colonel Maitland says; but for my a dirty cottager coming home from his daily labor ? part I cannot see what anybody can fancy such a dull There is no fancy--no elegance in such stuff. Talking little animal for. She is always moping about, and about poetry, reminds me of a piece given to me last never has anything amusing to say, like her sister. week by a friend. I think it a sweet, pretty effusionNow Loo is as lively as a cricket. Mr. Mathews was it was written on my performance on the piano. I will very fond of Mary, and called her his little genius; show it to you." but what she has a genius for, I never could discover. She took a rose-colored note from a small basket on I could never teach her anything; she would not even the centre table, and opening it, commenced
“ Ah little did you know the feelings of me,
arisen on his entrance-one moment pale as death, and As I stood by the side of your piano.sorte.”
the next, cheek, neck, and brow in a crimson glow. What was to follow this precious morceau, can never Maitland was the first to recover; he advanced, and be known; for at that moment a terrible noise was bowing, said with assumed coldnessheard coming toward them, and Mrs. Mathews escaped “Will not Miss Beverly recognize an old friend from the room, exhorting Constance to be “gentle to under a new name ?” the dear little creature." An athletic black entered, “I did not know I was not aware that--thatbearing Master Hopeful on his back, kicking and “That I had changed my name, you would say. I screaming with all his might. The negro's face bore believe it is not often customary with my sex. You evident marks of a conflict with his turbulent burthen. are aware that I went to Scotland to visit my maternal
“I tell you, big Jim, put me down, and let me go, or grandfather : by a clause in his will I took his name, I will put my ten commandments in your face," making when I inherited his estate." an effort, as he spoke, to claw the cheeks of the negro. There was a pause which was broken by Constance.
"No, no, young massa-me no let you go. You Putting considerable constraint on her feelings, she encum say you lesson fust. Missus say you mus stay in deavored to speak calmly. “I was not informed of de school room.”
your residence in this neighborhood, or I should not So saying, he deposited the boy on a cricket, by the have accepted the situation in this family which has side of Constance. The servant went out, and the brought me here." child made an effort to rush after him, but was pre “Situation! Good Heavens! Con-Miss Beverly ! vented by the key being turned on the outside. Con. You are not the governess who is engaged by Mrs. stance suffered him to lie on the floor and kick against Mathews ?” the door, until he became exhausted, and fell asleep. “The same." She then selected a large book, filled with colored en “What! you! Constance Beverly-the courted—the gravings, hoping by degrees to interest him in acquiring admired—the accomplished coquette, a governess ! How the elements of education.
came this to pass ?” It is not my purpose to give an account of the many “By a common reverse. My father died insolvent. weary days she spent in bringing her pupils into any. I would not be dependant on others, while I possessed thing like subjection. Henry showed both good feeling the means of procuring my own subsistence; and Miss and quickness when they were fairly brought into Beverly in her hour of triumph never felt prouder than play. Louisa, in character, as well as person, resem- now, for she feels that she is independent.” bied her mother. Superficial, vain, and fond of display, “ Noble-admirable Constance! Yet, I see that the she thought more of adorning her little person, than of pride of your nature is not subdued. To that pride I attending to the instructions of her governess. Mary owehad many faults, but they were those of an ingenuous "Say no more,” said Miss Beverly, rising with dig. and high-spirited child, who had been treated with nity. “I was not aware until we met, that you had injustice by her parent. Highly gifted she certainly returned from Scotland. Let the past be buried in was; she possessed all that precocious talent which is oblivion by both. We must meet as strangers; I could said by the superstitious to be given only to the early not bear that our former acquaintance, and all condoomed; and when one looked into her deep dark eyes, nected with it, should be known to Mrs. Mathews.” they could not but yield to the belief, that their sad “Oh, Constance !” said Maitland, with an impasexpression betokened the early fate of their interesting sioned air, “why bury the past in oblivion ? To me it possessor. She attached herself entirely to Constance, has been the talisman to preserve my heart from all and in all her rambles, Mary was her constant com other impressions. You once said that—yet why panion.
recal it to your mind, cold, proud beauty-urifling “What can be the reason Col. Maitland does not with the hearts you have won with as little remorse call ?" said Mrs. Mathews some weeks after the arrival asof our heroine. “I never knew him to stay away so “Col. Maitland you forget yourself-I must leave long before. You will find him a man of fine informa- you. Remember that we meet as strangers.” And she Lion, Miss Beverly-quite a savan, as the French say." glided from the room and hurried up stairs. Poor Con
“Who is this Col. Maitland ?” thought Constance, stance! what a tide of deep emotion was struggling in for his name was so continually rung in her ears that her heart ! it was impossible not to think of him. That he was a Three years before, she had parted with George man of sense and judgment she was certain, from the Ogilvie almost a plighted bride. He had been sumremarks she had heard quoted, as coming from him. moned to Scotland to see his grandfather, whose heir he Some superannuated bachelor, thought she, “who wears was, previous to the old man's death. The father of a wig and takes snuff.” We always form our beau Ogilvie and Mr. Beverly were friends, and at an early ideal of a person who has been much spoken of to us, age George was placed in the counting-house of the this was Miss Beverly's of Col. Maitland.
latter to learn the routine of business. His father died, He at last called. She was sitting alone in the par- and from that time young Ogilvie became an inmate in lor when a servant threw open the door and announced the family of Mr. Beverly. Constance was then a fair Col. Maitland. Constance looked up: a man who girl, just bursting into womanhood. She was not could not have numbered more than iwenty-six sum- strictly beautiful, but few looked on that charming face mers was before her, strikingly handsome, yet strangely who did not look again with renewed delight. awkward; for he stood as if transfixed to the spot.
"Where were such dark eyes as hers? Constance sunk on the seat, from which she had
So tender, yet withal so bright,
As the dark orbs had in their smile
addressed to Maitland, was well calculated to leave the Mingled the light of day and night.
impression on his mind that she considered herself freed And where was that wild grace which shed
from a galling chain, in breaking the engagement she A loveliness o’er every tread,
had formed with him. Several letters subsequently A beauty shining through the whole, Something which spoke of heart and soul."
came, addressed to her by Maitland, but she did not
open them. She had determined to obliterate the past The radiant expression and brilliant eyes of Miss from her memory as far as possible, and every memento Beverly, made her the belle of the season. Followed, she possessed of her absent lover, was either destroyed flattered, almost worshipped, Constance laughed, flirted or returned to him with all the letters he had ever adand danced with every cavalier, though it was only in dressed to her. her home that she really suffered her feelings to come in In their envelope, she merely wrote—“Let the past play. Ogilvie was proud, sensitive and retiring; and be forgotten. You are free. It is useless to address me it was not until the eve of his departure, that he un again, as I have determined to return all letters unfolded his feelings to the being in whose presence he had opened.” only lived for months past. Constance--the proud A few months afterwards Mr. Beverly died, and his the admired Constance, listened with a cheek suffused daughter found herself reduced from the station of an with blushes, and a trembling of the heart which suffi- envied heiress, to the necessity of using her talents for ciently informed her of the state of her feelings. Her her own support. father would not permit a positive engagement to be In the meantime, the elder Maitland had also died, formed. He suffered the lovers to correspond, and on bequeathing his estate to his grandson, on the condition the return of Ogilvie, if both continued true to their of his assuming his name. A few days after his death, vows, he was willing that they should be united.
the young heir received Miss Beverly's answer to the They parted, and Constance was to all outward letter, which he now bitterly regretted having written. seeming still the same ; "yet a change had come o'er the He accused her of being fickle, cold hearted, and tried spirit of her dream.” Her heart was no longer in the to think he was well pleased that such a woman would revel, though her eye shone brightest, and her step was never be his wife, but it would not do. He rememlightest, where all was gay and fair to view : even when bered the pride of Constance, and attributed her coldmusic filled the gay saloon, and the voice of flattery ness to the right source. His answer was all that the was pouring its honeyed words in her ear, her spirit most exacting affection could have required, but it was was on the deep waters with her betroihed-her never read by her. It was not until every trifling gift fancy picturing him to her as dreaming of his absent that he had ever bestowed on her was returned, that he love.
felt the uselessness of endeavoring to rekindle the flame Letters came from Maitland, breathing the most pas- of love from the ashes of a former passion. sionate devotion, and Constance read them again and He returned to his native country, rich in the gifts of again, and thought, that until absence had proved the fortune, yet without a lie to bind him to the life which depth of her affection, she had not known what love her smile had once brightened. He could not bear to
The absence of her lover was prolonged from visit the city in which Constance resided, and after month to month, until a year had elapsed. He then landing in New York, he proceeded on a tour through wrote that his grandfather would not consent to part the western and southern states. He had been well from him, and the old gentleman might linger for years acquainted with Mr. Mathews some years before his in the state in which he then was. He told Constance departure from America, and was induced by him to that it wrung his heart to give up the only hope that purchase a plantation adjoining his own. There he made life desirable ; yet, he could not be so ungenerous had been residing a year when he was introduced to the as to ask her to spend her youth in waiting for the re-reader. turn of a lover, who might be detained from her for Had Maitland met Constance in her former sphere, years by the imperative claims of duty.
sought for and caressed by all, he would have shunned Constance was wounded where she was most valnera- the renewal of all intercourse, believing that she would ble. She had never dreamed of any contingency that have been best pleased by his apparent neglect ; but he could influence her to break the engagement which had had seen her now pale and dejected-far from all who been formed from the purest motives of affection. She had loved and cherished her in her days of prosperity. compared the feelings of Maitland with her own, and in He observed that her figure had lost much of the elastic her heart she felt that "man's love is of man's life a buoyancy which once distinguished it, and there was thing apart,” and not worn as hers had been, in the in an expression of subdued sorrow in the countenance most sanctuary of the spirit, until it had become to her that spoke to his heart. Was it for him she sorrowed, as a part of her existence. He was willing to give her or only for the station she had lost? He recalled Conup, without leaving her the liberty of choosing between stance Beverly to his mind all radiant in beauty, health the evil of waiting years for his return, or seeking in and happiness, as he had last seen her; and as he stood newer ties forgetfulness of the dreams which had woven there alone where she had left him, he unconsciously their spells around her soul. Had she loved him less, murmuredher pride had not felt the blow so keenly, but the wound was dealt the hand which should have been
"Since we were doomed to part, raised to shield her.
They say that changed thou art. She wrote to him a cold, formal letter. It seemed
Oh, can they speak of change for one like thee? to her as if an ice-blast had passed over her soul, chil.
Is that brow pale and worn
Where once there sat such scorn? ling and desolating it forever; and the language she Is that step settered, once so glad and free?"
“Oh, Constance-Constance ! never half so dear as tual Maitland. Without waiting for her answer, Mrs. now: you must-you will be won to listen to me Mathews went on. again.”
“ The Colonel is a fine man, and takes such an inMrs. Mathews entered.
terest in all that concerns me and my children. He is
their guardian, you know; but that can scarcely account Months passed by, and Constance and himself indeed for the deep interest he takes in the children. He was met as strangers. All Maitland's efforts were ineffec- praising their improvement yesterday, and he said you lual to overstep the line which she had drawn between controlled them admirably; but you cannot think how them. His advances were met with such coldness, that astonished he was when I told him you did not know at times, he was almost tempted to doubt that she had who wrote the Pleasures of Hope. He said that was ever loved him. Yet he saw that when he entered, her very extraordinary for a young lady of your acquirepale cheek flushed, and he had detected a tremor in that ments." small, fair hand when he approached, and praised the For an instant the brow of Constance was scarlet, drawing on which she was occupied. All these signs and a dimness came over her vision as she listened to convinced him that the past was not a forgotten dream. the insinuations which Mrs. Mathews desired to throw
One evening Mrs. Mathews left the room a short out, regarding the admiration of Col. Maitland for hertime—the children also were absent. It was the only self; but she recovered immediately, and only smiled time they had been alone since the morning of their at the close of the speech. She had long seen that first interview.
little persuasion would be necessary to induce Mrs. “ Constance," said Maitland, “is this fair ?—is it Mathews to throw aside the widow's weeds and become generous, thus to trample on my feelings? Do not look the bride of Maitland, but that such persuasion would incredulous or surprised-you know I love you still." ever be offered she had every reason to doubt. It was
“ The love that wanes in absence is not such as I can not without pain that Constance heard Mrs. Mathews prize," she replied, in a low unfaltering voice. “Had go on with her revealings; for in the months of almost we never met again, I had not been thought of but as daily intercourse, since her arrival in the country, she one with whom it was pleasant to amuse an idle hour.” had in vain endeavored to keep her feelings under her
“ By Heaven, this is too much! After all I have suf- own control. In spite of herself, her heart bounded, fered, to be thus addressed! Oh, Constance, was it when she heard that step for which she had been unnothing to see my aged relative--the only one I knew consciously listening, and her eye would light up with in the world, raising his palsied hands to me, and beg. a welcome she would fain have concealed. She feared ging me to have pity on his age--his grey hairs, and that Mrs. Mathews had penetrated the veil she sought slay with him so long as life was given him ? I strugo to throw over her feelings; and the present confidence gled as long as I could against his entreaties. I con- was intended to crush in the bud every hope she might sulted his physicians--they said he might linger for have cherished. years—could I do less than free you from the ties that “Col. Maitland has not made any prepositions to me bound you ? I fondly hoped that your answer would yet, but I think his daily visits warrant the expectation convey to me the assurance of unchanged love, and tell of his soon doing so, and my duty to my sweet chilme that time and absence could not dim your affection. dren would not allow me to refuse so unexceptionable On, Constance, how different were your words!" an offer. My ar Mr. Mathews would, I know, be
“ Yes,they told you that you were also free. Think pleased to see our union, could he look down from his you that I could have held you by the ties of honor, blest abode and see what my motives are for marrying when I saw that those of affection were already broken? a second time.” No, sir-cease your endeavors to recal feelings which Constance had no reply to make, and so soon as she for my own happiness should be forgotten. Had you could escape, she went to her own room to commune loved me as I would be loved, that letter had never been with her own thoughts, but not “to be still;" for what writen--your own heart would have caught you to peace could there be for her heart, when she found it so trust in the fidelity of mine.”
deeply enthralled by a passion which she had made At that moment, Mrs. Mathews returned, and Con- every effort to conquer ? Pride had proved but a feeble stance immediately retired.
barrier when opposed to the whisperings of affection. "Well, Miss Beverly,” said Mrs. Mathews, some Maitland was daily beside her, offering the delicate weeks afterwards, “what do you think of Col. Mait- flattery of unobtrusive attention to all her wishes, and land? You have known him now quite long enough to looking the language which he would not permit his lips form a judgment of his character.”
lo utter: yet, when tempted to yield to the suggestions of “I think he is a gentleman, and a man of great intel- her heart, the remembrance that he had once voluntaligence,” said Constance quietly.
rily resigned her, would cross her mind, chilling her “Ah, everybody can see that; but don't you think again, and enabling her to support her outward show him very handsome? For my part I think he is the of calmness and indifference. handsomest man I ever knew, except my poor dear That evening Maitland spent at Allingham manor, husband. Don't you think Mr. Mathews was finer and poor Constance felt that the small unmeaning eyes looking ?”
of her hostess were fixed on her with a scrutinizing exAs she spoke, she raised her eyes to a portrait of her pression whenever he addressed her. Mary, as usual, husband which hung in the room. Constance could was hanging around her; and wishing to play the scarcely refrain from laughing, as she looked at the fat amiable before Maitland, Mrs. Mathews called to the jolly Falstaff of a man which the picture represented, childand mentally contrasted him with the elegant intellec Come here, Mary; Miss Beverly has entirely won