“Because Margaretta must have good sense enough to see that you are a man of correct principles, and an affectionate disposition.”

“Still, she may not see in me that which interests her sufficiently to induce her to marry me.”

“That is true.  But I don’t believe you have any thing to fear.”

“I cannot help fearing, Mary, for the simple reason, that I find my affections so much interested.  A disappointment would be attended with extreme pain.”

“Then I would end suspense at once.”

“I will.  To-morrow evening I will declare my feelings.”

It was about nine o’clock on the next evening, while Mary Fielding sat reading by the centre-table, that her brother entered hastily, and threw himself upon the sofa, a deep sigh escaping him as he did so.

“What ails you, Thomas?” inquired his sister, rising and approaching him.

But he made no reply.

“Tell me, what ails you, Thomas?” Mary urged, taking his hand affectionately.

“I have been to see Margaretta,” the brother at length replied, in as calm a voice as he could assume.

“And she has not, surely, declined your offer?”

“She has, and with what appeared to me an intimation that I loved her money, perhaps, better than herself.”

“Surely not, brother!”

“To me it seemed so.  Certainly she treated lightly my declaration, and almost jested with me.”

The sister stood silent for some moments, and then said—­

“The woman who could thus jest with you, Thomas, is unworthy of you.”

“So I am trying to convince myself.  But the trial is a deeply painful one.”

And painful it proved for many weeks afterwards.  But, finally, he was enabled to rise above his feelings

In the mean time, Mr. Smith had wooed the heiress successfully, and, in doing so, his own heart had become interested, or, at least, he deceived himself into the belief that such was the case.  He no longer jested, as he had done at first, about her money, nor declared, even to his friend Perkins, how strong an influence it had upon his affections.  More serious thoughts of marriage had caused these selfish motives to retire out of sight and acknowledgment; but still they existed and still ruled his actions.

The aunt, when Margaretta made known to her that the young man had offered himself, was pained beyond measure, particularly as it was evident that her niece favoured the suitor.

“Indeed, Margaretta,” said she, earnestly, “he is not worthy of you!”

“You judge him harshly, aunt,” the niece replied.  “I know him to be all that either of us could wish for.”

“But how do you know, Margaretta?”

“I have observed him closely, and am sure that, I cannot be deceived in him.”

“Alas! my child, if you know nothing beyond your own observation, you are far more ignorant than you suppose.  Be guided, then, by me—­trust more to my observation than your own.  He is not the man to make you happy!  Let me urge you, then, to keep him at a distance.”