“ ‘You are as complimentary as usual, I perceive.’
“ ‘Would you have me to feel flattered by being made the tool of your vanity, Madam?’ said he, while his cheek flushed and his eye sparkled; ‘do I not know that you only sought to gratify a malicious triumph over your less fortunate rival?’
“A denial rose to my lips, but my conscience forbade me to utter it. I was perfectly silent—yet, perhaps, there was something of penitence in my countenance, for he immediately added:
“ ‘Good Heavens! Mildred,—Miss Marchmont, I mean—what capabilities of mind,—what noble characteristics of feeling you are daily wasting in society! How rapidly are the weeds of evil passion springing up amid the rich plants of virtue which are still rooted in your heart! How awful is the responsibility of one so nobly gifted as yourself!’
“ ‘What do you mean, sir?’ exclaimed I, startled at his earnestness.
“ ‘Have you never read the parable of the unfaithful steward who hid his talent in the earth?’ was his reply: ‘God has given you beauty and mental power, and wealth and influence; yet what is your beauty but a snare?—What are your talents but instruments to gratify your vanity? Where is your wealth expended if not in ministering to your luxuries? What suffering fellow-being has ever been cheered by your sympathy?—or what weak and erring mortal has ever been strengthened in duty, or wakened to virtue by your influence?’
“I cannot describe how deeply I was shocked and pained at these impressive words. An emotion resembling terror seized me;—I was actually alarmed at the picture they abruptly presented to my view.
“Louis continued: ‘Forgive me, Miss Marchmont, if I have trespassed beyond the limits of decorum. I speak the language of truth,—a language you are but little accustomed to hear; but my conscience and my heart have long reproached my silence.’
“ ‘You are a severe judge, Mr. Heyward,’ said I, with a faint attempt at a smile; and just at that moment we were interrupted by some jesting remarks from the party who preceded us. No opportunity was afforded for renewing our conversation; but as we approached home, Louis lingered so as to secure a moment’s time, and said in a low voice:
“ ‘I will not ask you to forgive my frankness, Miss Marchmont, for something tells me that the time will come when you will not resent my apparent rudeness. I owe to you some of the happiest, and, it may be, some of the saddest moments of my life. Before we part, I would fain awaken you to a sense of your own true value, for amid all the frivolities which now waste your life, I have discovered that you were born for better things.’ As he uttered these words, we found ourselves at my father’s door, and with a cold bow he turned away.