“We must all esteem the kindness that prompted your visit,” Constance replied with a strong effort to subdue the troubled emotions within, and which were but too plainly indicated, by her now flushed cheek and trembling lips.

“No other feeling induced me to call, except indeed, one stronger than that possibly could be—­” Mr. Wilkinson said, still holding her hand, and looking intently in her face—­” the feeling of profound regard, nay, I must call it, affection, which I have long entertained for you.”

A declaration so unexpected, under the circumstances, entirely destroyed all further efforts on the part of Constance, to control her feelings.  She burst into tears, but did not attempt to withdraw her hand.

“Can I hope for a return of like sentiment, Constance?” he at length said, tenderly.

A few moments’ silence ensued, when the weeping girl lifted her head, and looked him in the face with eyes, though filled with tears, full of love’s tenderest expression.

“I still confide in my father, Mr. Wilkinson,” was her answer.

“Then I would see your father to-night.”

Instantly Constance glided from the room, and in a few minutes her father came down into the parlour.  A long conference ensued; and then the mother was sent for, and finally Constance again.  Mr. Wilkinson made offers of marriage, which, being accepted, he urged an immediate consummation.  Delay was asked, but he was so earnest, that all parties agreed that the wedding should take place in three days.

In three days the rite was said, and Wilkinson, one of the most prosperous young merchants of Philadelphia, left for New York with his happy bride.  A week soon glided away, at the end of which time they returned.

“Where are we going?” Constance asked, as they entered a carriage on landing from the steamboat.

“To our own house, of course!” was her husband’s reply.

“You didn’t tell me that you had taken a house, and furnished it.”

“Didn’t I?  Well, that is something of an oversight.  But you hardly thought that I was so simple as to catch a bird without having a cage first provided for it.”

“You had but little time to get the cage,” thought Constance, but she did not utter the thought.

In a few minutes the carriage stopped before a noble dwelling, the first glance of which bewildered the senses of the young bride, and caused her to lean silent and trembling upon her husband’s arm, as she ascended the broad marble steps leading to the entrance.  Thence she was ushered hurriedly into the parlours.

There stood her father, mother, and sisters, ready to receive her.  There was every article of furniture in its place, as she had left it but a little over a week before.  The pictures, so much admired by her father, still hung on the wall; and there, in the old spot, was Willie s dear portrait, as sweet, as innocent, as tranquil as ever!  One glance took in all this.  In the next moment she fell weeping upon her mother’s bosom.