"Especially was I astonished at the effect of an uninterrupted pursuit of pleasure upon the sensibilities, the tempers, and the domestic affections of women. Though bearing within my heart an image of female goodness and purity, this sweet remembrance might possibly have been driven from its throne and supplanted by one of the lovely faces which at first bewildered me by their beauty, had these last been the index to souls of equal perfection. There may be noble and excellent women moving in the highest walks of life whose beauty and grace are less admirable than their own high natures; but among those with whom I became familiarly acquainted there was not one who could in the least compare with her who was continually present to my memory, who is still, and ever must be, a model to her sex.

"Gertrude Flint was the standard by which each in my mind was measured. How could I help contrasting the folly, the worldliness, and the cold-heartedness around me with the cultivated mind, the self-sacrificing and affectionate disposition of one who possesses every quality that can adorn life? You failed to convince me that Gertrude can in any way be a drawback to the man who shall be so fortunate as to call her his. For my own part, I desire no better, no more truly aristocratic position in life than that to which she is so well entitled, and to which she would be one of the brightest ornaments—the aristocracy of true refinement, knowledge, grace, and beauty. You talk to me of wealth. Gertrude has no money in her purse, but her soul is the pure gold, tried in the furnace of sorrow and affliction, and thence come forth bright and unalloyed. You speak of family and an honourable birth. She has no family, and her birth is shrouded in mystery; but the blood that courses in her veins would never disgrace the race from which she sprung, and every throb of her unselfish heart allies her to all that is noble.

"You are eloquent upon the subject of beauty. When I parted from Gertrude, she was, in all but character, a mere child, being only thirteen years of age. Though much altered and improved since the time when she first came among us, I scarcely think she could have been said to possess much of what the world calls beauty. It was a matter of which I seldom thought or cared; and had I been less indifferent on the subject, she was so dear to me that I should have been unable to form an impartial judgment of her claims in this respect.

"I well remember, however, the indignation I once felt at hearing a fellow-clerk, who had met her in one of our walks, sneeringly contrast her personal appearance with that of our employer's handsome daughter, Miss Clinton; and the proportionate rapture with which I listened to the excellent teacher, Miss Brown, when, being present at a school examination, I overheard her commenting to a lady upon Gertrude's wonderful promise in person as well as in mind. Whether the first part of this promise has been fulfilled I have no means of judging; but as I recall her dignified and graceful little figure, her large, intelligent, sparkling eyes, the glow of feeling that lit up her countenance, and the peaceful, almost majestic expression which purity of soul imparted to her yet childish features, she stands forth to my remembrance the embodiment of all that I hold most dear.

"Six years may have outwardly changed her much; but they cannot have robbed her of what I prize the most. She has charms over which time can have no power, a grace that is a gift of Heaven, a beauty that is eternal. Could I ask for more? Do not believe, then, that my fidelity to my early playmate is an emotion of gratitude merely. It is true I owe her much—far more than I can ever repay; but the honest warmth of my affection for the noble girl springs from the truest love of a purity of character and singleness of heart which I had never seen equalled.

"What is there in the foolish walks of Fashion, the glitter of wealth, the homage of an idle crowd, that could so elevate my spirit and inspire my exertions as the thought of a peaceful, happy home, blessed by a presiding spirit so formed for confidence, love, and a communion that time can never dissolve and eternity will but render more secure and unbroken?"

"And she whom you love so well—are you sure——" asked Mr. Phillips, speaking with a visible effort, and faltering ere he had completed his sentence.

"No," answered Willie, anticipating the question. "I know what you would ask. I am not sure. I have no reason to indulge the hopes I have been dwelling upon so fondly; but I do not regret having spoken with such candour; for, should she grieve my heart by her coldness, I should still be proud to have loved her. Until this time, since I gained my native land, I have been shackled with duties which, sacred as they were, have chafed a spirit longing for freedom to follow its own impulses. In this visit to you, sir, I have fulfilled the last obligation imposed upon me by my excellent friend, and to-morrow I shall be at liberty to go where my duty alone prevented me from at once hastening."

He offered his hand to Mr. Amory, who grasped it with a cordiality very different from the feeble greeting he had given him on his entrance, "Good-bye," said he, "You carry with you my best wishes for a success which you seem to have so much at heart; but some day or other I feel sure you will be reminded of all I have said to you this evening."

"Strange man!" thought Willie, as he walked towards his hotel. "How warmly he shook my hand at parting! and how affectionately he bade me farewell, notwithstanding the cold reception he gave me, and the pertinacity with which I rejected his opinions and repelled his advice!"