"I did, and confess it was very beautiful. Her whole face smiled, and seemed to beam with delight. But it was so evanescent, I scarcely caught it, ere it was gone."
"A slight shade of sadness was the prevailing cast of her countenance," said Gordon.
"She has recently lost a most excellent father," said Montague. "You noticed she was in mourning."
"Could an unfeeling heart lodge beneath that smile?" asked Gordon.
"The source of the smile might be the head—not the heart," answered Montague.
"I will never believe it—at least not till I try whether she has a heart or not," said Gordon.
"Very well," said Montague. "I told you in the beginning, I had not had time to form an opinion."
Between the two young men who held this conversation, there was as strong a contrast as could be between a noble-minded, well-educated, well-principled young man, and an exquisite of the first water. Gordon was quite free from all gross irregularities, but he had no principle of action; no motive beyond present gratification. The Bible was Montague's counsellor and guide; and he was endeavoring so to live on earth, as to live forever in Heaven. The young men had been much together in boyhood, and afterwards at the university; and though the difference in their characters grew broader, and more strongly marked every day, yet their intimacy in some degree continued. Montague was interested in the welfare of his early associate; and Gordon, though often angry at the warnings, exhortations, and reproofs of his friend, could not endure the idea of relinquishing his friendship. He really had a kind of affection for Montague; and he felt that it gave him additional consequence to be permitted to call such a man friend. Some months previous to the period now spoken of, Montague had been called on business to a distant part of the country; and Gordon, having nothing to do, offered to accompany him, and they had now just returned, after an absence of half a year. Montague had his fortune to make; Gordon inherited one from his father.
One morning about a week after his return, Montague called at Mr. Claremont's, where he was a frequent visiter. He was not quite as cheerful and conversable as usual, and after trying a long time to draw him out, Alice said—
"You are depressed this morning, Hubert. What is the matter?"