That evening, amid a gay and fashionable assemblage at Mrs. Merton’s, was to be seen the showy Charles Wilton, with his easy, and even elegant manners, attracting almost as much attention as his vain heart could desire.  And the quiet, sensible Walter Gray was there also, looking upon all things with a calm, philosophic mein.

“Your friend Mr. Wilton is quite the centre of attraction for the young ladies, this evening,” remarked Jane Emory, who was leaning upon the arm of Walter Gray, and listening with an interest she scarcely dared confess to herself, to his occasional remarks, that indicated a mind active with true and healthful thought.

“And he seems to enjoy it,” replied Walter, with a pleasant tone and smile.

“Almost too much so, it seems to me, for a man,” his companion said, though with nothing censorious in her manner.  She merely expressed a sentiment without showing that it excited unkind feelings.

“Or for a woman, either,” was the quick response.

“True.  But if pleased with attentions, and even admiration may we not be excused?”

“O, certainly.  We may all be excused for our weaknesses; still they are weaknesses, after all.”

“And therefore should not be encouraged.”

“Certainly not.  We should be governed by some higher end than the mere love of admiration—­even admiration for good qualities.”

“I admit the truth of what you say, and yet, the state is one to which I have not yet attained.”

Walter Gray turned a look full of tender interest upon the maiden by his side, as she ceased speaking, and said in a tone that had in it much of tenderness,

“You express, Miss Emory, but the feeling which every one has who truly desires the attainment of true excellence of character.  We have not this excellence, naturally, but it is within the compass of effort.  Like you, I have had to regret the weaknesses and deficiencies of my own character.  But, in self-government, as in everything else, my motto is, Persevere to the end.  The same motto, or the same rule of action, clothed in other words, perhaps, I trust—­nay, I am sure, rules in your mind.”

For a few moments Jane did not reply.  She feared to utter any form of words that would mislead.  At length she said, modestly,

“I try to subdue in me what is evil, or that which seems to me to act in opposition to good principles.”

Before Walter Gray, pleased with the answer, could frame in his mind a fitting reply, Charles Wilton, with Cara Linton on his arm, was thrown in front of them.

“Has Walter been edifying you with one of the Psalms of David, Miss Emory?” said Wilton, gaily.  “One would think so from his solemn face, and the demure, thoughtful expression of yours.”

Neither Walter nor his fair companion were what is called quick-witted; and both were so checked in their thoughts and feelings that neither could, on the moment, fitly reply.