"And this evening," replied I, "I will call to see you." So saying, I left the house.
This interval was tedious, but was to be endured with equanimity. I was impatient to be gone to Baltimore, and hoped to be able to set out by the dawn of next day. Meanwhile, I was necessarily to perform something with respect to Clemenza.
After dinner I accompanied Mrs. Stevens to visit Miss Carlton. I was eager to see a woman who could bear adversity in the manner which my friend had described.
She met us at the door of her apartment. Her seriousness was not abated by her smiles of affability and welcome. "My friend!" whispered I, "how truly lovely is this Miss Carlton! Are the heart and the intelligence within worthy of these features?"
"Yes, they are. The account of her employments, of her resignation to the ill fate of the brother whom she loves, proves that they are."
My eyes were riveted to her countenance and person. I felt uncontrollable eagerness to speak to her, and to gain her good opinion.
"You must know this young man, my dear Miss Carlton," said my friend, looking at me; "he is my husband's friend, and professes a great desire to be yours. You must not treat him as a mere stranger, for he knows your character and situation already, as well as that of your brother."
She looked at me with benignity:—"I accept his friendship willingly and gratefully, and shall endeavour to convince him that his good opinion is not misplaced."
There now ensued a conversation somewhat general, in which this young woman showed a mind vigorous from exercise and unembarrassed by care. She affected no concealment of her own condition, of her wants, or her comforts. She laid no stress upon misfortunes, but contrived to deduce some beneficial consequence to herself, and some motive for gratitude to Heaven, from every wayward incident that had befallen her.
This demeanour emboldened me, at length, to inquire into the cause of her brother's imprisonment, and the nature of his debt.