"But your uncle and aunt, Miss Ursula?"
"O, I shall tell them candidly my project. They will laugh at me, I know, and try, perhaps, to dissuade me; but, after all, they will let me do as I please."
Twelve! chimed a beautiful Cupid running off with Time, which, exquisitely wrought in gold and pearl, stood on the dressing-table.
In a few moments Hetty had drawn the rose-colored curtains around the couch of her young mistress, and left her to dreams as rosy.
PART II.
And now will you follow me to another scene—an apartment more spacious, and even more elegant, than the one we have just left, save that it savors more of the "sterner sex." For instance, we may see a brace of pistols, superbly mounted, crossed over the mantel-piece—a flute upon the table—a rifle leaning against the wall, and, I declare, fishing-tackle thrown carelessly down, all among those delicate knackeries so beautifully arranged on yonder marble slab—just like the men!
Reclining upon a sofa of crimson satin, wrought with gold thread, wrapped in an elegant dressing-robe, with his feet thrust into embroidered slippers, is a young man of very pleasing exterior, whom we should judge to be about five-and-twenty. The long, slender fingers of one hand are half buried in the rich mass of dark-brown hair which waves over his temples, the other, hanging over the back of the sofa, seems to partake of the disturbance of its master, for it beats and thrums the silken covering most unmercifully. See how he knits his fine brow, and now waves his arm menacingly in the air—what can be the matter!
Ah! you will laugh again when I tell you here is another discontented heir of wealth.
There! now he suddenly starts up as if distracted. "Yelp, yelp!" Ah! poor Fido! although your master seems evidently out of humor, he would not have kicked your beautiful spotted coat had he seen you! There, he caresses you—so fold back your long ears, and wag your tail complacently, while we hear what this impatient youth has to say, as he strides so rapidly hither and thither.
"Well, no doubt wealth is a very fine thing, if the world would let one enjoy it peaceably; but to be thus forever dined, and teaed, and courted, and flattered, and smiled at, and bowed at, and winked at, when, if it were not for my fortune, I very much doubt whether one of these, my exceeding good friends, would give me a dinner to save me from starvation. Why I had rather be the veriest boor that holds a plough, or a cobbler at his last, than to be, as Shakspeare says, "the thing I am." I am heartily sick of it, and could almost turn my back upon the world, and lead a hermit's life. To be always a mark for managing mothers, with great grown-up daughters; aimed at, like a target, by scores of black, grey, and blue eyes; to be forever forced to waltz with this one, and sing with another—and, ere I know it, find myself entrapped into a close tête-à-tête with a third. I wish I was married; then one-half at least of my troubles would be over—for I should shake off this swarm of female fortune-hunters! Married! ah! I wish I was! But where can I find one who will love me for myself alone, and not for the standing my wealth would give her? Married! ah! how delightful to come home and find a dear little wife waiting with open arms to welcome me, and the rosiest and sweetest of lips coaxingly pressed to mine; all my cares forgotten, all my vexations subdued by her soothing caresses and tender words. And then how enchanting as she warbles like a linnet for my ear alone; how enchanting to lean her bewitching little head on my shoulder, and inhale the balmy fragrance of her breath. O! I wish I was married!"