“I will not annoy you,” replied Maxwell, with emphasis, as he assumed an air of more self-possession.  “I have been pleading for exemption from the direst of human miseries.  But I will not annoy you, even to save myself from endless woe.”

“Forget this misplaced affection; for he assured my sentiments will continue unchanged.”

“I can never forget it; but I will strive to endure it with resignation.  I feel that I must still cherish the presumptuous hope that you will yet relent.”

“Destroy not your own peace; for the hope must be a vain one.  Good-afternoon;” and the lady departed before the attorney had time to add another hyperbolical profession of a passion which, however well acted, was not half so deeply grounded as he had led the unsuspecting object of it to believe.  That he really loved her was to some extent true.  That his love was earnest and pure, such as the blight of coldness and inconstancy would render painful, was not true,—­far from it.  He had sought her hand, not to lay at her feet the offering of a hallowed affection, but to realize the object we have before mentioned,—­to enable him, by the possession of her vast wealth, to live a life of ease and pleasure.

He had commenced his attack upon her affections with some prospect of success.  To the occasional professional visit he paid her father he had added frequent social calls, in which he had used all his eloquence to enlist the sympathies of the fair daughter.  She had regarded him as an agreeable visitor; and, indeed, his natural abilities, the unceasing wit and liveliness of his conversation, had well earned him this distinction.  Flattering himself that he should be able to win her affections, he had gradually emerged from the indifference of the mere formalist to the incipient attentions of the devoted lover.  These overtures were not well received, and, if she had before treated him with the favor which the agreeable visitor always receives, she now extended to him only the stately courtesy of entire indifference.  The visible change in the cordiality of her receptions had opened his eyes, and revealed the nature of his unpromising position.  But his disposition was too buoyant, his character too energetic, to allow him to despair.

Latterly, however, a new obstacle to his suit had presented itself, in the person of a rival, upon whom the object of his ambitious wishes appeared to bestow unusual favor.  This individual was a young officer in the army, a sort of protege of the lady’s father, who had been spending a furlough at Bellevue.  In the matter of fortune Maxwell’s rival was not to be dreaded, for he knew the lady was not mercenary in her views.  The young captain was penniless; but his family was good, and he had the advantage of being a favorite with the father.  He had won for himself a name on the fields of Mexico, which went far to enlist a lady’s favor.  He was a universal favorite both with the public and in the private circle.