Long before her son had passed his fourteenth year, she had made a selection for him in a little Miss, younger than he was by two years, named Antoinette Billings.  Antoinette’s mother was a woman after Mrs. Linden’s own heart.  She understood the first distant hint made on the subject, and readily came to a fair and open understanding with Mrs. Linden.  Then it was managed so that the children were much together, and they were taught to look upon each other as engaged for marriage at some future day.

Charles was a fine, noble-hearted boy; but Antoinette was a spoiled, pert, selfish creature, and had but little control over her tempers, that were by no means amiable.  It was not long before the future husband, so called, wisely determined that Miss Antoinette should never be his wife, and he told his mother so in very plain language.  Mrs. Linden tried every art in her power to influence Charles, but it was no use.  He inherited too much truly noble blood from this independent, right-thinking father.

At the age of twenty-one, he left his native place and entered into business in a neighbouring city.  His mother parted with him reluctantly; but there were strong reasons why he should go, and she did not feel that it would be right to oppose him.

About a year after his removal from P—­to his new place of residence, Charles Linden met Ellen Fleetwood.  She had come recently from one of the Eastern States, and resided in the family of a distant relative.  His first impressions were favourable—­each subsequent meeting confirmed them—­and, length, he found himself really attached to her.  So little of his mother’s peculiar spirit had he imbibed, that it did not once occur to him to ask about her family until he had made up his mind to offer himself in marriage.  Inquiry on this subject resulted in the discovery that Ellen’s parents were distinguished from the mass in no particular way.  They had married early, and her mother died early.  Her father, whose very existence seemed to have been wrapped up in that of his wife, went away soon after her death, and never returned.  It was believed by his friends that he did not survive her long.  Ellen was then five years old.  An aunt adopted her and raised her as her own child.  A year before Linden met her, this aunt had died, leaving her a small income.  She removed shortly after this event, at the request of a relative—­the only surviving one, as far as she knew—­and now lived with her.  Of the precise character of the father and mother, he could learn nothing.  Ellen, therefore, neither lost nor gained any thing in his eyes by birth.  For what she was to him, and for that alone, he loved her—­and loved purely and tenderly.