Page 6 of Pencil Sketches; or, Outlines of Character and Manners

  LAURA LOVEL.

  "The world is still deceived with ornament."--SHAKSPEARE.

  Laura Lovel was the eldest surviving daughter of a clergyman settled ina retired and beautiful village at the western extremity of the state ofMassachusetts. Between Laura and her two youngest sisters, three otherchildren had died. Being so much their senior, it was in her power toassist her father materially in the instruction of Ella and Rosa; asafter his family had become small, Mr. Lovel thought it best that thetwo little girls should receive all their education at home, and neverwere children that conferred more credit on their teachers. Mrs. Lovelwas a plain, good woman, of excellent practical sense, a notableseamstress, and a first-rate housewife. Few families were more perfectlyhappy, notwithstanding that the limited income of Mr. Lovel (thoughsufficient for comfort) left them little or nothing for superfluities.

  They had a very neat house standing in the centre of a flourishinggarden, in which utility had been the first consideration, thoughblended as far as possible with beauty. The stone fence looked like ahedge of nasturtians. The pillars supporting the rustic piazza thatsurrounded the house, were the rough trunks of small trees, with asufficient portion of the chief branches remaining, to affordresting-places for the luxuriant masses of scarlet beans that ran overthem; furnishing, when the blossoms were off, and the green pods fullgrown, an excellent vegetable-dish for the table. The house was shadedwith fruit-trees exclusively; and the garden shrubs were all raspberry,currant, and gooseberry, and the flowers were chiefly those that hadmedicinal properties, or could be turned to culinary purposes--with theexception of some that were cultivated purposely for the bees. A meadowwhich pastured two cows and a horse, completed the little domain.

  About the time that Laura Lovel had finished her seventeenth year, therecame to the village of Rosebrook an old friend of her father's, whom hehad long since lost sight of. They had received their early education atthe same school, they had met again at college, and had some years afterperformed together a voyage to India; Mr. Brantley as supercargo, Mr.Lovel as a missionary. Mr. Brantley had been very successful inbusiness, and was now a merchant of wealth and respectability, with ahandsome establishment in Boston. Mr. Lovel had settled down as pastorof the principal church in his native village.

  The object of Mr. Brantley's present visit to Rosebrook, was to inquirepersonally into the state of some property he still retained there. Mr.Lovel would not allow his old friend to remain at the tavern, butinsisted that _his_ house should be his abiding place; and they had muchpleasure in comparing their reminiscences of former times. As theirchief conversation was on topics common to both, Mr. Lovel did notperceive that, except upon mercantile subjects, Mr. Brantley hadacquired few new ideas since they had last met, and that his reading wasconfined exclusively to the newspapers. But he saw that in quietgood-nature, and easiness of disposition, his old friend was still thesame as in early life.

  Mr. Brantley was so pleased with every member of the Lovel family, andliked his visit so much, that he was induced to prolong it two daysbeyond his first intention; and he expressed an earnest desire to takeLaura home with him, to pass a few weeks with his wife and daughter.This proposal, however, was declined, with sincere acknowledgments forits kindness; Mr. Lovel's delicacy making him unwilling to send hisdaughter, as a guest, to a lady who as yet was ignorant of herexistence, and Laura sharing in her father's scruples.

  Mr. Brantley took his leave: and three months afterwards he paid asecond visit to Rosebrook, for the purpose of selling his property inthat neighbourhood. He brought with him a short but very polite letterfrom his wife to Mr. and Mrs. Lovel, renewing the invitation for Laura,and pressing it in a manner that could scarcely be withstood. Mr. Lovelbegan to waver; Mrs. Lovel thought it was time that Laura should see alittle of the world, and Laura's speaking looks told how much pleasureshe anticipated from the excursion. The two little girls, though theireyes filled at the idea of being separated from their beloved sister,most magnanimously joined in entreating permission for her to go, asthey saw that she wished it. Finally, Mr. Lovel consented; and Lauraseemed to tread on air while making her preparations for the journey.

  That evening, at the hour of family worship, her father laid his hand onLaura's head, and uttered a fervent prayer for the preservation of herhealth and happiness during her absence from the paternal roof. Mrs.Lovel and all her daughters were deeply affected, and Mr. Brantleylooked very much inclined to participate in their emotion.

  Early next morning Mr. Brantley's chaise was at the door, and Laura tookleave of the family with almost as many tears and kisses as if she hadbeen going to cross the Atlantic. Little Ella, who was about eight yearsold, presented her, at parting, with a very ingenious needle-book of herown making, and Rosa, who was just seven, gave her as a keepsake anequally clever pincushion. She promised to bring them new books, andother little presents from Boston, a place in which they supposedeverything that the world produced, could be obtained withoutdifficulty.

  Finally, the last farewell was uttered, the last kiss was given, andLaura Lovel took her seat in the chaise beside Mr. Brantley, who droveoff at a rapid pace; and in a few moments a turn in the road hid fromher view the house of her father, and the affectionate group that stilllingered at its gate, to catch the latest glimpse of the vehicle thatwas bearing away from them the daughter and the sister.

  As they proceeded on their journey, Laura's spirits gradually revived,and she soon became interested or delighted with everything she beheld;for she had a quick perception, with a mind of much intelligence anddepth of observation.

  The second day of their journey had nearly closed, before the spires ofthe Boston churches, and the majestic dome of the State House, met theintense gaze of our heroine. Thousands of lights soon twinkled over thecity of the three hills, and the long vistas of lamps that illuminatedthe bridges, seemed to the unpractised eyes of Laura Lovel to realizethe glories of the Arabian Nights. "Oh!" she involuntarily exclaimed,"if my dear little sisters could only be with me now!"

  As they entered by the western avenue, and as Mr. Brantley's residencewas situated in the eastern part of the city, Laura had an opportunityof seeing as she passed a vast number of lofty, spacious, andnoble-looking dwelling-houses, in the erection of which the patricianfamilies of Boston have perhaps surpassed all the other aristocracies ofthe Union; for, sternly republican as are our laws and institutions, itcannot be denied that in private life every section of our commonwealthhas its aristocracy.

  At length they stopped at Mr. Brantley's door, and Laura had a verypolite reception from the lady of the mansion, an indolent,good-natured, insipid woman, the chief business of whose life was dressand company. Mr. Brantley had purchased a large and handsome house inthe western part of the town, to which the family were to remove in thecourse of the autumn, and it was Mrs. Brantley's intention, when theywere settled in their new and elegant establishment, to get into ahigher circle, and to have weekly _soirees_. To make her parties themore attractive, she was desirous of engaging some very pretty younglady (a stranger with a new face) to pass the winter with her. She hadbut one child, a pert, forward girl, about fourteen, thin, pale, andseeming "as if she suffered a great deal in order to look pretty." Shesat, stood, and moved, as if in constant pain from the tightness of hercorsets, the smallness of her sleeve-holes, and the narrowness of hershoes. Her hair, having been kept long during the whole period of herchildhood, was exhausted with incessant tying, brushing, and curling,and she was already obliged to make artificial additions to it. It wasat this time a mountain of bows, plaits, and puffs; and her costume wasin every respect that of a woman of twenty. She was extremely anxious to"come out," as it is called, but her father insisted on her staying in,till she had finished her education; and her mother had been told thatit was very impolitic to allow young ladies to "appear in society" attoo early an age, as they were always supposed to be older than theyreally were, and therefore would be the sooner considered _passe_.

  After
tea, Mrs. Brantley reclined herself idly in one of therocking-chairs, Mr. Brantley retired to the back parlour to readundisturbed the evening papers, and Augusta took up some bead-work,while Laura looked over the Souvenirs with which the centre-table wasstrewed.

  "How happy you must be, Miss Brantley," said Laura, "to have it in yourpower to read so many new books!"

  "As to reading," replied Augusta, "I never have any time to spare forthat purpose; what with my music, and my dancing, and my lessons inFrench conversation, and my worsted-work, and my bead-work; then I haveevery day to go out shopping, for I always _will_ choose everything formyself. Mamma has not the least idea of my taste; at least, she neverremembers it. And then there is always some business with themantua-makers and milliners. And I have so many morning visits to paywith mamma--and in the afternoon I am generally so tired that I can donothing but put on a wrapper, and throw myself on the bed, and sleeptill it is time to dress for evening."

  "Oh!" thought Laura Lovel, "how differently do we pass our time atRosebrook!--Is not this a beautiful engraving?" she continued, holdingone of the open Souvenirs towards Augusta.

  "Yes--pretty enough," replied Augusta, scarcely turning her head to lookat it.--"Mamma, do not you think I had better have my green pelerine cutin points rather than in scollops?"

  "I think," replied Mrs. Brantley, "that scollops are the prettiest."

  "Really, mamma," said Augusta, petulantly, "it is very peculiar in youto say so, when you ought to know that scollops have had their day, andthat points have come round again."

  "Very well, then, my love," replied Mrs. Brantley, indolently, "consultyour own taste."

  "That I always do," said Augusta, half aside to Laura, who, addressingherself to Mrs. Brantley, made some inquiry about the last new novel.

  "I cannot say that I have read it," answered Mrs. Brantley; "at least, Idon't know that I have. Augusta, my love, do you recollect if you haveheard me say anything about the last new book--the--a--the--what is ityou call it, Miss Lovel?"

  "La! mamma," said Augusta, "I should as soon expect you to write a bookas to read one."

  There was a pause for a minute or two. Augusta then leaning back towardsher mother, exclaimed, "Upon second thoughts, I think I will have thegreen pelerine scolloped, and the blue one pointed. But the pointsshall be squared at the ends--on that I am determined."

  Laura now took up a volume of the juvenile annual, entitled the Pearl,and said to Augusta, "You have most probably a complete set of thePearl."

  "After all, mamma," pursued Augusta, "butterfly bows are much prettierthan shell-bows. What were you saying just now, Miss Lovel, about myhaving a set of pearls?--you may well ask;"--looking spitefully towardsthe back-parlour, in which her father was sitting. "Papa holds out thathe will not give me a set till I am eighteen; and as to gold chains, andcorals, and cornelians, I am sick of them, and I won't wear them at all;so you see me without any ornaments whatever, which you must think verypeculiar."

  Laura had tact enough to perceive that any further attempt at aconversation on books would be unavailing; and she made some inquiryabout the annual exhibition of pictures at the Athenaeum.

  "I believe it is a very good one," replied Mrs. Brantley. "We stoppedthere one day on our way to dine with some friends out of town. But asthe carriage was waiting, and the horses were impatient, we only stayeda few minutes, just long enough to walk round."

  "Oh! yes, mamma," cried Augusta; "and don't you recollect we saw MissDarford there in a new dress of lavender-coloured grenadine, thoughgrenadines have been over these hundred years. And there was pretty Mrs.Lenham, as the gentlemen call her, in a puce-coloured italianet, thoughitalianets have been out for ages. And don't you remember Miss Grover'scanary-coloured reps bonnet, that looked as if it had been made in theark. The idea of any one wearing reps! a thing that has not been seensince the flood! Only think of reps!"

  Laura Lovel wondered what _reps_ could possibly be. "Now I talk ofbonnets," pursued Augusta; "pray, mamma, did you tell Miss Pipingcordthat I would have my Tuscan Leghorn trimmed with the lilac and greenriband, instead of the blue and yellow?"

  "Indeed," replied Mrs. Brantley, "I found your cousin Mary so extremelyill this afternoon when I went to see her, and my sister so very uneasyon her account, that I absolutely forgot to call at the milliner's, as Ihad promised you."

  "Was there ever anything so vexatious!" exclaimed Augusta, throwingdown her bead-work. "Really, mamma, there is no trusting you at all. Younever remember to do anything you are desired." And flying to the bell,she rang it with violence.

  "I could think of nothing but poor Mary's danger," said Mrs. Brantley,"and the twenty-five leeches that I saw on her forehead."

  "Dreadful!" ejaculated Augusta. "But you might have supposed that theleeches would do her good, as, of course, they will. Here, William,"addressing the servant-man that had just entered, "run as if you wererunning for your life to Miss Pipingcord, the milliner, and tell herupon no account whatever to trim Miss Brantley's Tuscan Leghorn with theblue and yellow riband that was decided on yesterday. Tell her I havechanged my mind, and resolved upon the lilac and green. Fly as if youhad not another moment to live, or Miss Pipingcord will have alreadytrimmed the bonnet with the blue and yellow."

  "And then," said Mrs. Brantley, "go to Mrs. Ashmore's, and inquire howMiss Mary is this evening."

  "Why, mamma," exclaimed Augusta, "aunt Ashmore lives so far from MissPipingcord's, that it will be ten or eleven o'clock before William getsback, and I shall be all that time on thorns to know if she has notalready disfigured my bonnet with the vile blue and yellow."

  "Yesterday," said Mrs. Brantley, "you admired that very ribandextremely."

  "So I did," replied Augusta, "but I have been thinking about it since,and, as I tell you, I have changed my mind. And now that I have set myheart upon the lilac and green, I absolutely detest the blue andyellow."

  "But I am really very anxious to know how Mary is to-night," said Mrs.Brantley.

  "Oh!" replied Augusta, "I dare say the leeches have relieved her. And ifthey have not, no doubt Dr. Warren will order twenty-five more--orsomething else that will answer the purpose. She is in very goodhands--I am certain that in the morning we shall hear she isconsiderably better. At all events, I _will not_ wear the hateful blueand yellow riband.--William, what are you standing for?"

  The man turned to leave the room, but Mrs. Brantley called him back."William," said she, "tell one of the women to go to Mrs. Ashmore's andinquire how Miss Mary is."

  "Eliza and Matilda are both out," said William, "and Louisa is cryingwith the toothache, and steaming her face over hot yerbs. I guess shewon't be willing to walk so far in the night-air, just out of thesteam."

  "William," exclaimed Augusta, stamping with her foot, "don't stand heretalking, but go at once; there's not a moment to lose. Tell MissPipingcord if she _has_ put on that horrid riband, she must take it offagain, and charge it in the bill, if she pretends she can't afford tolose it, as I dare say she will; and tell her to be sure and send thebonnet home early in the morning--I am dying to see it."

  To all this, Laura Lovel had sat listening in amazement, and couldscarcely conceive the possibility of the mind of so young a girl beingtotally absorbed in things that concerned nothing but externalappearance. She had yet to learn that a passion for dress, whenthoroughly excited in the female bosom, and carried to excess, has adirect tendency to cloud the understanding, injure the temper, andharden the heart.

  Till the return of William, Augusta seemed indeed to be on thorns. Atlast he came, and brought with him the bonnet, trimmed with the blue andyellow. Augusta snatched it out of the bandbox, and stood speechlesswith passion, and William thus delivered his message from themilliner:--

  "Miss Pippincod sends word that she had riband'd the bonnet afore I comefor it--she says she has used up all her laylock green for anotherlady's bonnet, as chose it this very afternoon; and she guesses youwon't stand no chance of finding no more of it, if you sarch Bos
tonthrough; and she says she shew you all her ribands yesterday, and youchose the yellow blue yourself, and she han't got no more ribands asyou'd be likely to like. Them's her very words."

  "How I hate milliners!" exclaimed Augusta; and ringing for the maid thatalways assisted her in undressing, she flounced out of the room and wentto bed.

  "Miss Lovel," said Mrs. Brantley, smiling, "you must excuse dearAugusta. She is extremely sensitive about everything, and that is thereason she is apt to give way to these little fits of irritation."

  Laura retired to her room, grieving to think how unamiable a young girlmight be made, by the indulgence of an inordinate passion for dress.

  Augusta's cousin Mary did not die.

  The following day was to have been devoted to shopping, and to makingsome additions to the simple wardrobe of Laura Lovel, for which purposeher father had given her as much money as he could possibly spare. Butit rained till late in the afternoon, and Mrs. Brantley's coach was outof order, and the Brantleys (like many other families that keptcarriages of their own) could not conceive the possibility of _hiring_ asimilar vehicle upon any exigency whatever.

  It is true that the present case was in reality no exigency at all; butMrs. Brantley and her daughter seemed to consider it as such, from theone watching the clouds all day as she sat at the window, in herrocking-chair, and the other wandering about like a troubled spirit,fretting all the time, and complaining of the weather. Laura got throughthe hours very well, between reading Souvenirs (almost the only books inthe house) and writing a long letter to inform her family of her safearrival, and to describe her journey. Towards evening, a coach was heardto stop at the door, and there was a violent ringing, followed by a loudsharp voice in the entry, inquiring for Mrs. Brantley, who started fromher rocking-chair, as Augusta exclaimed, "Miss Frampton!--I know 'tisMiss Frampton!" The young lady rushed into the hall, while her motheradvanced a few steps, and Mr. Brantley threw down his paper, andhastened into the front-parlour with a look that expressed anything butsatisfaction.

  There was no time for comment or preparation. The sound was heard ofbaggage depositing, and in a few moments Augusta returned to theparlour, hanging lovingly on the arm of a lady in a very handsometravelling dress, who flew to Mrs. Brantley and kissed her familiarly,and then shook hands with her husband, and was introduced by him to ourheroine.

  Miss Frampton was a fashionable-looking woman, of no particular age. Herfigure was good, but her features were the contrary, and the expressionof her eye was strikingly bad. She had no relations, but she talkedincessantly of her _friends_--for so she called every person whom sheknew by sight, provided always that they were _presentable_ people. Shehad some property, on the income of which she lived, exercising closeeconomy in everything but dress. Sometimes she boarded out, andsometimes she billeted herself on one or other of these said friends,having no scruples of delicacy to deter her from eagerly availingherself of the slightest hint that might be construed into the semblanceof an invitation. In short, she was assiduous in trying to getacquainted with everybody from whom anything was to be gained,flattering them to their faces, though she abused them behind theirbacks. Still, strange to tell, she had succeeded in forcing her way intothe outworks of what is called society. She dressed well, professed toknow everybody, and to go everywhere, was _au fait_ of all the gossip ofthe day, and could always furnish ample food for the too prevailingappetite for scandal. Therefore, though every one disliked MissFrampton, still every one tolerated her; and though a notoriouscalumniator, she excited so much fear, that it was generally thoughtsafer to keep up some slight intercourse with her, than to affront herby throwing her off entirely.

  Philadelphia was her usual place of residence; but she had met theBrantley family at the Saratoga Springs, had managed to accompany themto New York on their way home, had boarded at Bunker's during the weekthey stayed at that house, had assisted them in their shoppingexpeditions, and professed a violent regard for Augusta, who professedthe same for her. Mrs. Brantley's slight intimation "that she should beglad to see her if ever she came to Boston," Miss Frampton had now takenadvantage of, on pretext of benefiting by change of air. Conscious ofher faded looks, but still hoping to pass for a young woman, shepretended always to be in precarious health, though of this there wasseldom any proof positive.

  On being introduced to Laura Lovel, as to a young lady on a visit to thefamily, Miss Frampton, who at once considered her an interloper,surveyed our heroine from head to foot, with something like a sneer, andexchanged significant glances with Augusta.

  As soon as Miss Frampton had taken her seat, "My dear Mrs. Brantley,"said she, "how delighted I am to see you! And my sweet Augusta, too! Whyshe has grown a perfect sylph!"

  After hearing this, Augusta could not keep her seat five minutestogether, but was gliding and flitting about all the remainder of theevening, and hovering round Miss Frampton's chair.

  Miss Frampton continued, "Yes, my dear Mrs. Brantley, my health has, asusual, been extremely delicate. My friends have been seriously alarmedfor me, and all my physicians have been quite miserable on my account.Dr. Dengue has been seen driving through the streets like a madman, inhis haste to get to me. Poor man!--you must have heard the report ofhis suffering Mrs. Smith's baby to die with the croup, from neglectingto visit it, which, if true, was certainly in very bad taste. However,Dr. Dengue is one of my oldest friends, and a most charming man."

  "But, as I was saying, my health still continued delicate,and excitement was unanimously recommended by the medicalgentlemen--excitement and ice-cream. And as soon as this was known insociety, it is incredible how many parties were made for me, and howmany excursions were planned on my account. I had carriages at my doorday and night. My friends were absolutely dragging me from each other'sarms. Finally they all suggested entire change of air, and total changeof scene. So I consented to tear myself awhile from my belovedPhiladelphia, and pay you my promised visit in Boston."

  "We are much obliged to you," said Mrs. Brantley. "And really," pursuedMiss Frampton, "I had so many engagements on my hands, that I had fixedfive different days for starting, and disappointed five differentescorts. My receiving-room was like a levee every morning at visitinghours, with young gentlemen of fashion, coming to press their services,as is always the case when it is reported in Philadelphia that MissFrampton has a disposition to travel. A whole procession of my friendsaccompanied me to the steamboat, and I believe I had more than a dozenelegant smelling-bottles presented to me--as it is universally known howmuch I always suffer during a journey, being deadly sick on the water,and in a constant state of nervous agitation while riding."

  "And who did you come with at last?" asked Mrs. Brantley.

  "Oh! with my friends the Twamberleys, of your city," replied MissFrampton. "The whole family had been at Washington, and as soon as Iheard they were in Philadelphia on their return home, I sent toinquire--that is, or rather, I mean, _they_ sent to inquire as soon asthey came to town, and heard that I intended visiting Boston--they sentto inquire if I would make them happy by joining their party."

  "Well," observed Mr. Brantley, "I cannot imagine how you got along withall the Twamberleys. Mr. Twamberley, besides being a clumsy, fat man,upwards of seventy years old, and lame with the gout, and nearly quitedeaf, and having cataracts coming on both eyes, is always obliged totravel with his silly young wife, and the eight children of her firsthusband, and I should think he had enough to do in taking care ofhimself and them. I wonder you did not prefer availing yourself of thepoliteness of some of the single gentlemen you mentioned."

  "Oh!" replied Miss Frampton, "any of them would have been too happy, asthey politely expressed it, to have had the pleasure of waiting on me toBoston. Indeed, I knew not how to make a selection, being unwilling tooffend any of them by a preference. And then again, it is always inbetter taste for young ladies to travel, and, indeed, to go everywhere,under the wing of a married woman. I dote upon chaperones; and by comingwith this family, I had Mrs. Twamberley
to matronize me. I have justparted with them all at their own door, where they were set down."

  Mr. Brantley smiled when he thought of Mrs. Twamberley (who had beenmarried to her first husband at fifteen, and was still a bloominggirlish looking woman) matronizing the faded Miss Frampton, so evidentlyby many years her senior.

  Laura Lovel, though new to the world, had sufficient good sense andpenetration to perceive almost immediately, that Miss Frampton was awoman of much vanity and pretension, and that she was in the habit oftalking with great exaggeration; and in a short time she more thansuspected that many of her assertions were arrant falsehoods--a factthat was well known to all those numerous persons that Miss Framptoncalled her _friends_.

  Tea was now brought in, and Miss Frampton took occasion to relate inwhat manner she had discovered that the famous silver urn of thatcharming family, the Sam Kettlethorps, was, in reality, onlyplated--that her particular favourites, the Joe Sowerbys, showed suchbad taste at their great terrapin supper, as to have green hock-glassesfor the champagne; and that those delightful people, the Bob Skutterbys,the first time they attempted the new style of heaters at a venisondinner, had them filled with spirits of turpentine, instead of spiritsof wine.

  Next morning, Miss Frampton did not appear at the breakfast-table, buthad her first meal carried into her room, and Augusta breakfasted withher. Between them Laura Lovel was discussed at full length, and theirconclusion was, that she had not a single good feature--that hercomplexion was nothing, her figure nothing, and her dress worse thannothing.

  "I don't suppose," said Augusta, "that her father has given her muchmoney to bring to town with her."

  "To be sure he has not," replied Miss Frampton, "if he is only a poorcountry clergyman. I think it was in very bad taste for him to let hercome at all."

  "Well," said Augusta, "we must take her a shopping this morning, and tryto get her fitted out, so as to make a decent appearance at Nahant, aswe are going thither in a few days."

  "Then I have come just in the right time," said Miss Frampton. "Nahantis the very place I wish to visit--my sweet friend Mrs. Dick Pewsey hasgiven me such an account of it. She says there is considerable stylethere. She passed a week at Nahant when she came to Boston last summer."

  "Oh! I remember her," cried Augusta. "She was a mountain of blondelace."

  "Yes," observed Miss Frampton, "and not an inch of that blonde has yetbeen paid for, or ever will be; I know it from good authority."

  They went shopping, and Augusta took them to the most fashionable storein Washington street, where Laura was surprised and confused at thesight of the various beautiful articles shown to them. Even their namesperplexed her. She knew very well what gros de Naples was (or gro denap, as it is commonly called), but she was at a loss to distinguishgros de Berlin, gros de Suisse, gros des Indes, and all the other gros.Augusta, however, was au fait of the whole, and talked and flitted, andglided; producing, as she supposed, great effect among the youngsalesmen at the counters. Miss Frampton examined everything with ascrutinizing eye, undervalued them all, and took frequent occasions tosay that they were far inferior to similar articles in Philadelphia.

  At length, a very light-coloured figured silk, with a very new name, wasselected for Laura. The price appeared to her extremely high, and whenshe heard the number of yards that were considered necessary, shefaintly asked "if less would not do." Miss Frampton sneered, and Augustalaughed out, saying, "Don't you see that the silk is very narrow, andthat it has a wrong side and a right side, and that the flowers have atop and a bottom? So as it cannot be turned every way, a larger quantitywill be required."

  "Had I not better choose a plain silk," said Laura, "one that is wider,and that _can_ be turned any way?"

  "Oh! plain silks are so common," replied Augusta; "though, for a change,they are well enough. I have four. But this will be best for Nahant. Wealways dress to go there; and, of course, we expect all of our party todo the same."

  "But really this silk is so expensive," whispered Laura.

  "Let the dress be cut off," said Miss Frampton, in a peremptory tone. "Iam tired of so much hesitation. Tis in very bad taste."

  The dress _was_ cut off, and Laura, on calculating the amount, foundthat it would make a sad inroad on her little modicum. Being told thatshe must have also a new printed muslin, one was chosen for her with abeautiful sky blue for the predominant colour, and Laura found that thisalso was a very costly dress. She was next informed that she could notbe presentable without a French pelerine of embroidered muslin.

  Pelerines in great variety were then produced, and Laura found, to herdismay, that the prices were from ten to twenty-five dollars. Shedeclined taking one, and Miss Frampton and Augusta exchanged looks whichsaid, as plainly as looks could speak, "I suppose she has not moneyenough."

  Laura coloured--hesitated--at last false pride got the better of herscruples. The salesman commended the beauty of the pelerines;particularly of one tied up in the front, and ornamented on theshoulders, with bows of blue riband--and our heroine yielded, and tookit at fifteen dollars; those at ten dollars being voted by Miss Frampton"absolutely mean."

  After this, Laura was induced to supply herself with silk stockings andwhite kid gloves, "of a new style," and was also persuaded to give fivedollars for a small scarf, also of a new style. And when all thesepurchases were made, she found that three quarters of a dollar were allthat remained in her purse. Augusta also bought several new articles;but Miss Frampton got nothing. However, she insisted afterwards on goinginto every fancy store in Washington street--not to buy, but "to seewhat they had": and gave much trouble in causing the salesmen needlesslyto display their goods to her, and some offence by making invidiouscomparisons between their merchandise and that of Philadelphia. By thetime all this shopping was over, the clock of the Old South had strucktwo, and it was found expedient to postpone till next day the intendedvisit to the milliner and mantua-maker, Miss Frampton and Augustadeclaring that, of afternoons, they were never fit for anything but tothrow themselves on the bed and go to sleep. Laura Lovel, fatigued bothin body and mind, and feeling much dissatisfied with herself, was gladof a respite from the pursuit of finery, though it was only till nextmorning; and she was almost "at her wit's end" to know in what way shewas to pay for having her dress made--much less for the fashionable newbonnet which her companions insisted on her getting--Augusta giving morethan hints, that if she went with the family to Nahant, they shouldexpect her "to look like other people;" and Miss Frampton signifying inloud whispers, that "those who were unable to make an appearance, hadalways better stay at home."

  In the evening there were some visitors, none of whom were veryentertaining or agreeable, though all the ladies were excessivelydressed. Laura was reminded of the homely proverb, "Birds of a featherflock together." The chief entertainment was listening to Augusta'smusic, who considered herself to play and sing with wonderful execution.But to the unpractised ears and eyes of our heroine, it seemed nothingmore than an alternate succession of high shrieks and low murmurs,accompanied by various contortions of the face, sundry bowings andwavings of the body, great elevation of the shoulders and squaring ofthe elbows, and incessant quivering of the fingers, and throwing back ofthe hands. Miss Frampton talked all the while in a low voice to a ladythat sat next to her, and turned round at intervals to assure Augustathat her singing was divine, and that she reminded her of Madame Feron.

  Augusta had just finished a very great song, and was turning over hermusic-books in search of another, when a slight ring was heard at thestreet door, and as William opened it, a weak, hesitating voice inquiredfor Miss Laura Lovel, adding, "I hope to be excused. I know I ought notto make so free; but I heard this afternoon that Miss Laura, eldestdaughter of the Reverend Edward Lovel of Rosebrook, Massachusetts, isnow in this house, and I have walked five miles into town, for thepurpose of seeing the young lady. However, I ought not to consider thewalk as anything, and it was improper in me to speak of it at all. Theyoung lady is an old frie
nd of mine, if I may be so bold as to say so."

  "There's company in the parlour," said William, in a tone not overrespectful; "very particular company."

  "I won't meddle with any of the company," proceeded the voice. "I amvery careful never to make myself disagreeable. But I just wish (if I amnot taking too great a liberty) to see Miss Laura Lovel."

  "Shall I call her out," said William.

  "I would not for the world give her the trouble," replied the stranger."It is certainly my place to go to the young lady, and not hers to cometo me. I always try to be polite. I hope you don't find me unpleasant."

  "Miss Lovel," said Miss Frampton, sneeringly, "this must certainly be_your_ beau."

  The parlour-door being open, the whole of the preceding dialogue hadbeen heard by the company, and Miss Frampton, from the place in whichshe sat, had a view of the stranger, as he stood in the entry.

  William, then, with an unsuppressed grin, ushered into the room alittle, thin, weak-looking man, who had a whitish face, and dead lighthair, cut straight across his forehead. His dress was scrupulously neat,but very unfashionable. He wore a full suit of yellowish brown cloth,with all the gloss on. His legs were covered with smooth cottonstockings, and he had little silver knee-buckles. His shirt collar andcravat were stiff and blue, the latter being tied in front with verylong ends, and in his hand he held a blue bandanna handkerchief,carefully folded up. His whole deportment was stiff and awkward.

  On entering the room, he bowed very low with a peculiar jerk of thehead, and his whole appearance and manner denoted the very acme ofhumility. The company regarded him with amazement, and Miss Framptonbegan to whisper, keeping her eye fixed on him all the time. Laurastarted from her chair, hastened to him, and holding out her hand,addressed him by the name of Pyam Dodge. He took the proffered hand,after a moment of hesitation, and said, "I hope I am properly sensibleof your kindness, Miss Laura Lovel, in allowing me to take your hand,now that you are grown. Many a time have I led you to my school, when Iboarded at your respected father's, who I trust is well. But now I wouldnot, on any account, be too familiar."

  (Laura pointed to a chair.)

  "But which is the mistress of the house? I know perfectly well that itis proper for me to pay my respects to her, before I take the liberty ofsitting down under her roof. If I may presume to say that I understandanything thoroughly, it is certainly good manners. In my school, mannerswere always perfectly well taught--my own manners, I learned chieflyfrom my revered uncle, Deacon Ironskirt, formerly of Wicketiquock, butnow of Popsquash."

  Laura then introduced Pyam Dodge to the lady of the house, who receivedhim civilly, and then to Mr. Brantley, who, perceiving that the poorschoolmaster was what is called a character, found his curiosity excitedto know what he would do next.

  This ceremony over, Pyam Dodge bowed round to each of the companyseparately. Laura saw at once that he was an object of ridicule; and hisentire want of tact, and his pitiable simplicity, had never beforestruck her so forcibly. She was glad when, at last, he took a seatbeside her, and, in a low voice, she endeavoured to engage him in aconversation that should prevent him from talking to any one else. Shefound that he was master of a district school about five miles fromBoston, and that he was perfectly contented--for more than that he hadnever aspired to be.

  But vain were the efforts of our heroine to keep Pyam Dodge to herself,and to prevent him from manifesting his peculiarities to the rest of thecompany. Perceiving that Augusta had turned round on her music-stool tolisten and to look at him, the schoolmaster rose on his feet, and bowingfirst to the young lady, and then to her mother, he said: "Madam, I amafraid that I have disturbed the child while striking on herpyano-forty. I would on no account cause any interruption--for thatmight be making myself disagreeable. On the contrary, it would give mesatisfaction for the child to continue her exercise, and I shall esteemit a privilege to hear how she plays her music. I have taught singingmyself."

  Augusta then, by desire of her mother, commenced a new bravura, whichran somehow thus:--

  Oh! drop a tear, a tender tear--oh! drop a tear, a tender, tender tear.Oh! drop, oh! drop, oh! dro-o-op a te-en-der te-e-ear--a tender tear--atear for me--a tear for me; a tender tear for me.

  When I, when I, when I-I-I am wand'ring, wand'ring, wand'ring, wand'ringfar, far from thee--fa-a-ar, far, far, far from thee--from thee.

  For sadness in--for sadness in, my heart, my heart shall reign--shallre-e-e-ign--my hee-e-art--for sa-a-adness in my heart shall reign--shallreign.

  Until--until--unti-i-il we fondly, fondly meet again, we fondly meet,we fo-o-ondly me-e-et--until we fondly, fondly, fondly meet--meet, meet,meet again--we meet again.

  This song (in which the silliness of the words was increased tenfold bythe incessant repetition of them), after various alternations of highand low, fast and slow, finished in thunder, Augusta striking theconcluding notes with an energy that made the piano tremble.

  When the bravura was over, Pyam Dodge, who had stood listening inamazement, looked at Mrs. Brantley, and said: "Madam, your child mustdoubtless sing that song very well when she gets the right tune."

  "The right tune!" interrupted Augusta, indignantly.

  "The right tune!" echoed Mrs. Brantley and Miss Frampton.

  "Yes," said Pyam Dodge, solemnly--"and the right words also. For what Ihave just heard is, of course, neither the regular tune nor the properwords, as they seem to go every how--therefore I conclude that all thiswandering and confusion was caused by the presence of strangers: myself,in all probability, being the greatest stranger, if I may be so bold asto say so. This is doubtless the reason why she mixed up the words atrandom, and repeated the same so often, and why her actions at thepyano-forty are so strange. I trust that at other times she plays andsings so as to give the proper sense."

  Augusta violently shut down the lid of the piano, and gave her father alook that implied: "Won't you turn him out of the house?" But Mr.Brantley was much diverted, and laughed audibly.

  Pyam Dodge surveyed himself from head to foot, ascertained that hisknee-buckles were fast, and his cravat not untied, and, finding all hisclothes in complete order, he said, looking round to the company: "Ihope there is nothing ridiculous about me. It is my endeavour to appearas well as possible; but the race is not always to the swift, nor thebattle to the strong."

  "Upon my word," said Miss Frampton, leaning across the centre-table toMrs. Brantley, "your _protegee_ seems to have a strange taste in heracquaintances. However, that is always the case with people who havenever been in society, as my friend Mrs. Tom Spradlington justlyremarks."

  A waiter with refreshments was now brought in, and handed round to thecompany. When it came to Pyam Dodge, he rose on his feet, and thankedthe man for handing it to him; then, taking the smallest possiblequantity of each of the different articles, he put all on the sameplate, and, unfolding his blue bandanna, he spread it carefully andsmoothly over his knees, and commenced eating with the smallest possiblemouthfuls, praising everything as he tasted it. The wine being offeredto him, he respectfully declined it, signifying that he belonged to theTemperance Society. But he afterwards took a glass of lemonade, on beingassured that it was not punch, and again rising on his feet, he drankthe health of each of the company separately, and not knowing theirnames, he designated them as the lady in the blue gown, the lady in thewhite gown, the gentleman in the black coat, &c.

  This ceremony over, Pyam Dodge took out an old-fashioned silver watch,of a shape almost globular, and looking at the hour, he made manyapologies for going away so soon, having five miles to walk, andrequested that his departure might not break up the company. He thenbowed all round again--told Laura he would thank her for her hand,which, on her giving him, he shook high and awkwardly, walked backwardsto the door and ran against it, trusted he had made himself agreeable,and at last departed.

  The front-door had scarcely closed after him, when a general laugh tookplace, which even Laura could scarcely refrain from joining in.

/>   "Upon my word, Miss Lovel," said Augusta, "this friend of yours is themost peculiar person I ever beheld."

  "I never saw a man in worse taste," remarked Miss Frampton.

  In a moment another ring was heard at the door, and on its being opened,Pyam Dodge again made his appearance in the parlour, to beg pardon ofthe lady of the house, for not having returned thanks for hisentertainment, and also to the _young_ lady for her music, which, hesaid, "was doubtless well meant." He then repeated his bows andwithdrew.

  "What an intolerable fool!" exclaimed Augusta.

  "Indeed," replied Laura Lovel, "he is, after all, not deficient inunderstanding, though his total want of tact, and his entire ignoranceof the customs of the world, give an absurdity to his manner, which Iconfess it is difficult to witness without a smile. I have heard myfather say that Pyam Dodge is one of the best classical scholars he everknew, and he is certainly a man of good feelings, and of irreproachablecharacter."

  "I never knew a bore that was not," remarked Miss Frampton.

  There was again a ring at the door, and again Pyam Dodge was ushered in.His business now was to inform Miss Laura Lovel, that if she did not seehim every day during her residence in Boston, she must not impute theinfrequency of his visits to any disrespect on his part, but rather tohis close confinement to the duties of his school--besides which, hisleisure time was much occupied in studying Arabic; but he hoped to makehis arrangements, so as to be able to come to town and spend at leastthree evenings with her every week.

  At this intimation there were such evident tokens of disapproval, on thepart of the Brantley family and Miss Frampton, and of embarrassment onthat of Laura, that poor Pyam Dodge, obtuse as he was to the things ofthis world, saw that the announcement of his visits was not perfectlywell received. He looked amazed at this discovery, but bowed lower thanever, hoped he was not disgusting, and again retreated.

  Once more was heard at the door the faint ring that announced theschoolmaster. "Assuredly," observed a gentleman present, "this must bethe original Return Strong."

  This time, however, poor Pyam Dodge did not venture into the parlour,but was heard meekly to inquire of the servant, if he had not droppedhis handkerchief in the hall. The handkerchief was picked up, and hefinally departed, humbly hoping "that the gentleman attending the door,had not found him troublesome." The moment he was gone, the gentlemanthat attended the door was heard audibly to put down the dead-latch.

  Next day Augusta Brantley gave a standing order to the servants, thatwhenever Miss Lovel's schoolmaster came, he was to be told that thewhole family were out of town.

  In the morning, Laura was conveyed by Augusta and Miss Frampton to themantua-maker's, and Miss Boxpleat demurred a long time about undertakingthe two dresses, and longer still about finishing them that week, inconsequence of the vast quantity of work she had now on hand. Finallyshe consented, assuring Laura Lovel that she only did so to oblige MissBrantley.

  Laura then asked what would be her charge for making the dresses. MissBoxpleat reddened, and vouchsafed no reply; Miss Frampton laughed out,and Augusta twitched Laura's sleeve, who wondered what _faux pas_ shehad committed, till she learned in a whisper, that it was an affront tothe dressmaker to attempt to bargain with her beforehand, and ourheroine, much disconcerted, passively allowed herself to be fitted forthe dresses.

  Laura had a very pretty bonnet of the finest and whitest split straw,modestly trimmed with white lutestring riband; but her companions toldher that there was no existing without a dress-hat, and she wasaccordingly carried to Miss Pipingcord's. Here they found that all thehandsomest articles of this description were already engaged, but theymade her bespeak one of a very expensive silk, trimmed with flowers andgauze riband, and when she objected to the front, as exposing her wholeface to the summer sun, she was told that of course she must have ablonde gauze veil. "We will stop at Whitaker's," said Augusta, "and seehis assortment, and you can make the purchase at once." Laura knew thatshe could not, and steadily persisted in her refusal, saying that shemust depend on her parasol for screening her face.

  Several other superfluities were pressed upon our poor heroine, as theyproceeded along Washington street; Augusta really thinking itindispensable that Laura should be fashionably and expensively dressed,and Miss Frampton feeling a malignant pleasure in observing how muchthese importunities confused and distressed her.

  Laura sat down to dinner with an aching head, and no appetite, andafterwards retired to her room, and endeavoured to allay her uneasinesswith a book.

  "So," said Miss Frampton to Mrs. Brantley, "this is the girl that dearAugusta tells me you think of inviting to pass the winter with you."

  "Why, is she not very pretty?" replied Mrs. Brantley.

  "Not in my eye," answered Miss Frampton. "Wait but two years, till mysweet Augusta is old enough and tall enough to come out, and you willhave no occasion to invite beauties, for the purpose of drawing companyto your house--for, of course, I cannot but understand the motive; andpray, how can the father of this girl enable her to make a properappearance? When she has got through the two new dresses that we had somuch difficulty in persuading her to venture upon, is she to return toher black marcelline?--You certainly do not intend to wrong your ownchild by going to the expense of dressing out this parson's daughteryourself. And, after all, these green young girls do not draw companyhalf so well as ladies a few years older--decided women of ton, who arefamiliar with the whole routine of society, and have the veritable _airdistingue_. One of that description would do more for your soirees, nextwinter, than twenty of these village beauties."

  Next day our heroine's new bonnet came home, accompanied by a bill oftwelve dollars. She had supposed that the price would not exceed sevenor eight. She had not the money, and her embarrassment was increased byMiss Frampton's examining the bill, and reminding her that there was areceipt to it. Laura's confusion was so palpable, that Mrs. Brantleyfelt some compassion for her, and said to the milliner's girl, "Theyoung lady will call at Miss Pipingcord's, and pay for her hat." And thegirl departed, first asking to have the bill returned to her, as it wasreceipted.

  When our heroine and her companions were out next morning, they passedby the milliner's, and Laura instinctively turned away her head. "Youcan now call at Miss Pipingcord's and pay her bill," said Miss Frampton."It is here that she lives--don't you see her name on the door?"

  "I have not the money about me," said Laura, in a faltering voice--"Ihave left my purse at home." This was her first attempt at a subterfuge,and conscience-struck, she could not say another word during the walk.

  On the last day of the week, her dresses were sent home, with a bill ofeleven dollars for making the two, not including what are called thetrimmings, all of which were charged at about four times their realcost. Laura was more confounded than ever. Neither Mrs. Brantley norAugusta happened to be present, but Miss Frampton was, and understood itall. "Can't you tell the girl you will call and settle Miss Boxpleat'sbill?" said she. "Don't look so confused"--adding in a somewhat lowervoice, "she will suspect you have no money to pay with--really, yourbehaviour is in very bad taste."

  Laura's lip quivered, and her cheek grew pale. Miss Frampton couldscarcely help laughing, to see her so new to the world, and at lastdeigned to relieve her by telling Miss Boxpleat's girl that Miss Lovelwould call and settle the bill.

  The girl was scarcely out of the room, when poor Laura, unable torestrain herself another moment, hid her face against one of thecushions of the ottoman, and burst into tears. The flinty heart of MissFrampton underwent a momentary softening. She looked awhile in silenceat Laura, and then said to her, "Why, you seem to take this very much toheart."

  "No wonder," replied Laura, sobbing--"I have expended all my money; allthat my father gave me at my departure from home. At least I have onlythe merest trifle left; and how am I to pay either the milliner's bill,or the mantua-maker's?"

  Miss Frampton deliberated for a few moments, walked to the window, andstood there awhile-
-then approached the still weeping Laura, and said toher, "What would you say if a friend was to come forward to relieve youfrom this embarrassment?"

  "I have no friend," replied Laura, in a half-choked voice--"at leastnone here. Oh! how I wish that I had never left home!"

  Miss Frampton paused again, and finally offered Laura the loan oftwenty-five dollars, till she could get money from her father. "I knownot," said Laura, "how I can ask my father so soon for any more money. Iam convinced that he gave me all he could possibly spare. I have donevery wrong in allowing myself to incur expenses which I am unable tomeet. I can never forgive myself. Oh! how miserable I am!" And she againcovered her face and cried bitterly.

  Miss Frampton hesitated--but she had heard Mr. Brantley speak of Mr.Lovel as a man of the strictest integrity, and she was certain that hewould strain every nerve, and redouble the economy of his familyexpenditure, rather than allow his daughter to remain long underpecuniary obligations to a stranger. She felt that she ran no risk intaking from her pocket-book notes to the amount of twenty-five dollars,and putting them into the hands of Laura, who had thought at one time ofapplying to Mr. Brantley for the loan of a sufficient sum to help herout of her present difficulties, but was deterred by a feeling ofinvincible repugnance to taxing any farther the kindness of her host,conceiving herself already under sufficient obligations to him as hisguest, and a partaker of his hospitality. However, had she known more ofthe world and had a greater insight into the varieties of the humancharacter, she would have infinitely preferred throwing herself on thegenerosity of Mr. Brantley, to becoming the debtor of Miss Frampton. Asit was, she gratefully accepted the proffered kindness of that lady,feeling it a respite. Drying her tears, she immediately equipped herselffor walking, hastened both to the milliner and the mantua-maker, andpaying their bills, she returned home with a lightened heart.

  Laura Lovel had already begun to find her visit to the Brantley familyless agreeable than she had anticipated. They had nothing in common withherself; their conversation was neither edifying nor entertaining. Theyhad few books, except the Annuals; and though she passed the CirculatingLibraries with longing eyes, she did not consider that she wassufficiently in funds to avail herself of their contents. Noopportunities were offered her of seeing any of the shows of the city,and of those that casually fell in her way, she found her companionsgenerally more ignorant than herself. They did not conceive that astranger could be amused or interested with things that, having alwaysbeen within their own reach, had failed to awaken in _them_ theslightest curiosity. Mr. Brantley was infinitely the best of the family;but he was immersed in business all day, and in the newspapers all theevening. Mrs. Brantley was nothing, and Augusta's petulance andheartlessness, and Miss Frampton's impertinence (which somewhatincreased after she lent the money to Laura), were equally annoying. Thevisitors of the family were nearly of the same stamp as its members.

  Laura, however, had looked forward with much anticipated pleasure to thelong-talked-of visit to the sea-shore; and in the mean time her chiefenjoyment was derived from the afternoon rides that were occasionallytaken in Mr. Brantley's carriage, and which gave our heroine anopportunity of seeing something of the beautiful environs of Boston.

  Miss Frampton's fits of kindness were always very transient, and Laura'sdeep mortification at having been necessitated to accept a favour fromsuch a woman, was rendered still more poignant by unavoidablyoverhearing (as she was dressing at her toilet-table that stood betweentwo open windows) the following dialogue; the speakers being two of Mrs.Brantley's servant girls that were ironing in the kitchen porch, and whoin talking to each other of the young ladies, always dropped the titleof Miss:

  "Matilda," said one of them, "don't you hear Laura's bell? Didn't shetell you arter dinner, that she would ring for you arter a while, tocome up stairs and hook the back of her dress."

  "Yes," replied Matilda--"I hear it as plain as you do, Eliza; but Iguess I shan't go till it suits me. I'm quite beat out with running upstairs from morning to night to wait on that there Philadelphy woman, asshe takes such high airs. Who but she indeed! Any how, I'm not a goingto hurry. I shall just act as if I did not hear no bell at all--for asto this here Laura, I guess she an't much. Augusta told me this morning,when she got me to fix her hair, that Miss Frampton told her that Lauraaxed and begged her, amost on her bare knees, to lend her some money topay for her frocks and bunnet."

  "Why, how could she act so!" exclaimed Eliza.

  "Because," resumed Matilda, "her people sent her here without a copperin her pocket. So I guess they're a pretty shabby set, after all."

  "I was judging as much," said Eliza, "by her not taking no airs, andalways acting so polite to everybody."

  "Well now," observed Matilda, "Mr. Scourbrass, the gentleman as liveswith old Madam Montgomery, at the big house, in Bowdin Square, and helpsto do her work, always stands out that very great people of the ralesort, act much better, and an't so apt to take airs as them what areupstarts."

  "Doctors differ," sagely remarked Eliza. "However, as you say, I don'tbelieve this here Laura _is_ much; and I'm thinking how she'll get alongat Nahant. Miss Lathersoap, the lady as washes her clothes, told me,among other things, that Laura's pocket-handkerchers are all quiteplain--not a worked or a laced one among them. Now our Augusta wouldscorn to carry a plain handkercher, and so would her mother."

  "I've taken notice of Laura's handkerchers myself," said Matilda, "and Idon't see why we young ladies as lives out, and does people's work tooblige them, should be expected to run at the beck and call of anystrangers they may choose to take into the house; let alone when they'renot no great things."

  Laura retreated from the open windows, that she might hear no more of aconversation so painful to her. She would at once have written to herfather, told him all, and begged him, if he possibly could, to send hermoney enough to repay Miss Frampton, but she had found, by a letterreceived the day before, that he had gone on some business to theinterior of Maine, and would not be home in less than a fortnight.

  Next day was the one finally appointed for their removal to Nahant, andour heroine felt her spirits revive at the idea of beholding, for thefirst time in her life, "the sea, the sea, the open sea." They went inMr. Brantley's carriage, and Laura understood that she _might_ ride inher black silk dress and her straw bonnet.

  They crossed at the Winnisimmet Ferry, rode through Chelsea, and soonarrived at the flourishing town of Lynn, where every man was makingshoes, and every woman binding them. The last sunbeams were glowing inthe west, when they came to the beautiful Long Beach that connects therocks of Lynn with those of Nahant, the sand being so firm and smooththat the shadow of every object is reflected in it downwards. The tidewas so high that they drove along the verge of the surf, the horses'feet splashing through the water, and trampling on the shells andsea-weed left by the retiring waves. Cattle, as they went home, werecooling themselves by wading breast high in the breakers; and the littlesand-birds were sporting on the crests of the billows, sometimes flyinglow, and dipping into the water the white edges of their wings, andsometimes seeming, with their slender feet, to walk on the surface ofthe foam. Beyond the everlasting breakers rolled the unbounded ocean,the haze of evening coming fast upon it, and the full moon rising broadand red through the misty veil of the eastern horizon.

  Laura Lovel felt as if she could have viewed this scene for ever, and attimes she could not refrain from audibly expressing her delight. Theother ladies were deeply engaged in listening to Miss Frampton's accountof a ball and supper given by her intimate friend, that lovely woman,Mrs. Ben Derrydown, the evening before Mr. Ben Derrydown's last failure,and which ball and supper exceeded in splendour anything she had everwitnessed, except the wedding-party of her sweet love, Mrs. NickRearsby, whose furniture was seized by the sheriff a few months after;and the birth-night concert at the coming out of her darling pet, KateBolderhurst, who ran away next morning with her music-master.

  Our party now arrived at the Nahant Hotel, wh
ich was full of visitors,with some of whom the Brantleys were acquainted. After tea, when thecompany adjourned to the lower drawing-rooms, the extraordinary beautyof Laura Lovel drew the majority of the gentlemen to that side of theapartment on which the Brantley family were seated. Many introductionstook place, and Mrs. Brantley felt in paradise at seeing that _her_party had attracted the greatest number of beaux. Miss Framptongenerally made a point of answering everything that was addressed toLaura; and Augusta glided, and flitted, and chattered much impertinentnonsense to the gentlemen on the outskirts of the group, that werewaiting for an opportunity of saying something to Miss Lovel.

  Our heroine was much confused at finding herself an object of suchgeneral attention, and was also overwhelmed by the officious volubilityof Miss Frampton, though none of it was addressed to _her_. Mrs.Maitland, a lady as unlike Mrs. Brantley as possible, was seated on theother side of Laura Lovel, and was at once prepossessed in her favour,not only from the beauty of her features, but from the intelligence ofher countenance. Desirous of being better acquainted, and seeing thatLaura's present position was anything but pleasant to her, Mrs. Maitlandproposed that they should take a turn in the veranda that runs round thesecond story of the hotel. To this suggestion Laura gladly assented--forshe felt at once that Mrs. Maitland was just the sort of woman she wouldlike to know. There was a refinement and dignity in her appearance andmanner that showed her to be "every inch a lady;" but that dignity wastempered with a frankness and courtesy that put every one around herimmediately at their ease. Though now in the autumn of life, her figurewas still good--her features still handsome, but they derived theirchief charm from the sensible and benevolent expression of her fine opencountenance. Her attire was admirably suited to her face and person; butshe was not over-dressed, and she was evidently one of those fortunatewomen who, without bestowing much time and attention upon it, are _aufait_ of all that constitutes a correct and tasteful costume.

  Mrs. Maitland took Laura's arm within hers, and telling Mrs. Brantleythat she was going to carry off Miss Lovel for half an hour, she made asign to a fine-looking young man on the other side of the room, andintroduced him as her son, Mr. Aubrey Maitland. He conducted the twoladies up stairs to the veranda, and in a few minutes our heroine feltas if she had been acquainted with the Maitlands for years. No longerkept down and oppressed by the night-mare influence of fools, her spiritexpanded, and breathed once more. She expressed, without hesitation,her delight at the scene that presented itself before her--for she feltthat she was understood.

  The moon, now "high in heaven," threw a solemn light on the tremblingexpanse of the ocean, and glittered on the spray that foamed andmurmured for ever round the rocks that environed the little peninsula,their deep recesses slumbering in shade, while their crags and pointscame out in silver brightness. Around lay the numerous islands that arescattered over Boston harbour, and far apart glowed the fires of twolight-houses, like immense stars beaming on the verge of the horizon;one of them, a revolving light, alternately shining out anddisappearing. As a contrast to the still repose that reigned around, wasthe billiard-room (resembling a little Grecian temple), on a promontorythat overlooked the sea--the lamps that shone through its windows,mingling with the moon-beams, and the rolling sound of thebilliard-balls uniting with the murmur of the eternal waters.

  Mrs. Maitland listened with corresponding interest to the animated andoriginal comments of her new friend, whose young and enthusiasticimagination had never been more vividly excited; and she drew her out,till Laura suddenly stopped, blushing with the fear that she had beensaying too much. Before they returned to the drawing-room, Aubrey wasdecidedly and deeply in love.

  When Laura retired to her apartment, she left the window open, that shemight from her pillow look out upon the moonlight sea, and be fanned bythe cool night breeze that gently rippled its waters; and when she wasat last lulled to repose by the monotonous dashing of the surf againstthe rocks beneath her casement, she had a dream of the peninsula ofNahant--not as it now is, covered with new and tasteful buildings, and afavourite resort of the fashion and opulence of Boston, but as it musthave looked two centuries ago, when the seals made their homes among itscaverned rocks, and when the only human habitations were the rude hutsof the Indian fishers, and the only boats their canoes of bark andskins.

  When she awoke from her dream, she saw the morning-star sparkling highin the east, and casting on the dark surface of the sea a line of lightwhich seemed to mimic that of the moon, long since gone down beyond theopposite horizon. Laura rose at the earliest glimpse of dawn to watchthe approaches of the coming day. A hazy vapour had spread itself overthe water, and through its gauzy veil she first beheld the red rim ofthe rising sun, seeming to emerge from its ocean bed. As the sunascended, the mist slowly rolled away, and "the light of morning smiledupon the wave," and tinted the white sails of a little fleet ofoutward-bound fishing-boats.

  At the breakfast table the majority of the company consisted of ladiesonly: most of the gentlemen (including Aubrey Maitland) having gone inthe early steamboat to attend to their business in the city. Afterbreakfast, Laura proposed a walk, and Augusta and Miss Frampton, notknowing what else to do with themselves, consented to accompany her. Acertain Miss Blunsdon (who, being an heiress, and of a patrician family,conceived herself privileged to do as she pleased, and therefore made ither pleasure to be a hoyden and a slattern), volunteered to pioneerthem, boasting of her intimate knowledge of every nook and corner of theneighbourhood. Our heroine, by particular desire of Augusta and MissFrampton, had arrayed herself that morning in her new French muslin,with what they called its proper accompaniments.

  Miss Blunsdon conducted the party to that singular cleft in the rocks,known by the name of the Swallow's Cave, in consequence of its havingbeen formerly the resort of those birds, whose nests covered its walls.Miss Frampton stopped as soon as they came in sight of it, declaringthat it was in bad taste for ladies to scramble about such ruggedplaces, and Augusta agreeing that a fancy for wet, slippery rocks wascertainly very peculiar. So the two friends sat down on the most levelspot they could find, while Miss Blunsdon insisted on Laura's followingher to the utmost extent of the cave, and our heroine's desire toexplore this wild and picturesque recess made her forgetful of theprobable consequences to her dress.

  Miss Blunsdon and Laura descended into the cleft, which, as theyproceeded, became so narrow as almost to close above their heads; itslofty and irregular walls seeming to lose themselves in the blue sky.The passage at the bottom was in some places scarcely wide enough toallow them to squeeze through it. The tide was low, yet still thestepping-stones, loosely imbedded in the sand and sea-weed, were nearlycovered with water. But Laura followed her guide to the utmost extent ofthe passage, till they looked out again upon the sea.

  When they rejoined their companions--"Oh! look at your new Frenchmuslin," exclaimed Augusta to Laura. "It is draggled half way up to yourknees, and the salt water has already taken the colour out of it--andyour pelerine is split down the back--and your shoes are half off yourfeet, and your stockings are all over wet sand. How very peculiar youlook!"

  Laura was now extremely sorry to find her dress so much injured, andMiss Frampton comforted her by the assurance that it would never againbe fit to be seen. They returned to the hotel, where they found Mrs.Maitland reading on one of the sofas in the upper hall. Laura washastily running up stairs, but Augusta called out--"Mrs. Maitland, dolook at Miss Lovel--did you ever see such a figure? She has demolishedher new dress, scrambling through the Swallow's Cave with MissBlunsdon." And she ran into the ladies' drawing-room to repeat the storyat full length, while Laura retired to her room to try some means ofremedying her disasters, and to regret that she had not been permittedto bring with her to Nahant some of her gingham morning dresses. TheFrench muslin, however, was incurable; its blue, though very beautiful,being of that peculiar cast which always fades into a dull white whenwet with water.

  Miss Frampton remained a while in the hall: and
taking her seat besideMrs. Maitland, said to her in a low confidential voice--"Have you notobserved, Mrs. Maitland, that when people, who are nobody, attemptdress, they always overdo it. Only think of a country clergyman'sdaughter coming to breakfast in so expensive a French muslin, and thengoing out in it to clamber about the rocks, and paddle among the wetsea-weed. Now you will see what a show she will make at dinner in adress, the cost of which would keep her whole family in comfortablecalico gowns for two years. I was with her when she did her shopping,and though, as a friend, I could not forbear entreating her to getthings that were suitable to her circumstances and to her station inlife, she turned a deaf ear to everything I said (which was certainly invery bad taste), and she would buy nothing but the most expensive anduseless frippery. I suppose she expects to catch the beaux by it. Butwhen they find out who she is, I rather think they will only nibble atthe bait--Heavens! what a wife she will make! And then such a want ofself-respect, and even of common integrity. Of course you will notmention it--for I would on no consideration that it should go anyfarther--but between ourselves. I was actually obliged to lend her moneyto pay her bills."

  Mrs. Maitland, thoroughly disgusted with her companion, and disbelievingthe whole of her gratuitous communication, rose from the sofa anddeparted without vouchsafing a reply.

  At dinner, Laura Lovel appeared in her new silk, and really lookedbeautifully. Miss Frampton, observing that our heroine attracted theattention of several gentlemen who had just arrived from the city, tookan opportunity, while she was receiving a plate of chowder from one ofthe waiters, to spill part of it on Laura's dress.

  "I beg your pardon, Miss Lovel," said she; "when I took the soup I didnot perceive that you and your new silk were beside me."

  Laura began to wipe her dress with her pocket-handkerchief. "Now don'tlook so disconcerted," pursued Miss Frampton, in a loud whisper. "It isin very bad taste to appear annoyed when an accident happens to yourdress. People in society always pass off such things, as of noconsequence whatever. I have apologized for spilling the soup, and whatmore can I do?"

  Poor Laura was not in _society_, and she knew that to _her_ the accident_was_ of consequence. However, she rallied, and tried to appear as ifshe thought no more of the mischance that had spoiled the handsomest andmost expensive dress she had ever possessed. After dinner she tried toremove the immense grease-spot by every application within her reach,but had no success.

  When she returned to the drawing-room, she was invited to join a partythat was going to visit the Spouting Horn, as it is generallydenominated. She had heard this remarkable place much talked of sinceher arrival at Nahant, and she certainly felt a great desire to see it.Mrs. Maitland had letters to write, and Mrs. Brantley and Miss Framptonwere engaged in their siesta; but Augusta was eager for the walk, as shefound that several gentlemen were going, among them Aubrey Maitland, whohad just arrived in the afternoon boat. His eyes sparkled at the sightof our heroine, and offering her his arm, they proceeded with the restof the party to the Spouting Horn. This is a deep cavity at the bottomof a steep ledge of rocks, and the waves, as they rush successively intoit with the tide, are immediately thrown out again by the action of acurrent of air which comes through a small opening at the back of therecess, the spray falling round like that of a cascade or fountain. Thetide and wind were both high, and Laura was told that the Spouting Hornwould be seen to great advantage.

  Aubrey Maitland conducted her carefully down the least rugged declivityof the rock, and gave her his hand to assist her in springing from pointto point. They at length descended to the bottom of the crag. Laura wasbending forward with eager curiosity, and looking steadfastly into thewave-worn cavern, much interested in the explosions of foaming water,which was sometimes greater and sometimes less. Suddenly a blast of windtwisted her light dress-bonnet completely round, and broke the sewing ofone of the strings, and the bonnet was directly whirled before her intothe cavity of the rock, and the next moment thrown back again amidst ashower of sea-froth. Laura cried out involuntarily, and Aubrey sprungforward, and snatched it out of the water.

  "I fear," said he, "Miss Level, your bonnet is irreparably injured." "Itis, indeed," replied Laura; and remembering Miss Frampton's lecture, shetried to say that the destruction of her bonnet was of no consequence,but unaccustomed to falsehood, the words died away on her lips.

  The ladies now gathered round our heroine, who held in her hand thedripping wreck of the once elegant bonnet; and they gave it as theirunanimous opinion, that nothing could possibly be done to restore it toany form that would make it wearable. Laura then tied her scarf over herhead, and Aubrey Maitland thought she looked prettier than ever.

  Late in the evening, Mr. Brantley arrived from town in his chaise,bringing from the post-office a letter for Laura Lovel, from her littlesisters, or rather two letters written on the same sheet. They ranthus:--

  "ROSEBROOK, August 9th, 18--.

  "DEAREST SISTER:--We hope you are having a great deal of pleasure in Boston. How many novels you must be reading--I wish I was grown up as you are--I am eight years old, and I have never yet read a novel. We miss you all the time. There is still a chair placed for you at table, and Rosa and I take turns in sitting next to it. But we can no longer hear your pleasant talk with our dear father. You know Rosa and I always listened so attentively that we frequently forgot to eat our dinners. I see advertised a large new book of Fairy Tales. How much you will have to tell us when you come home. Since you were so kind as to promise to bring me a book, I think, upon second thought, I would rather have the Tales of the Castle than Miss Edgeworth's Moral Tales.

  "Dear mother now has to make all the pies and puddings herself. We miss you every way. The Children's Friend must be a charming book--so must the Friend of Youth.

  "Yesterday we had a pair of fowls killed for dinner. Of course they were not Rosa's chickens, nor mine--they were only Billy and Bobby. But still, Rosa and I cried very much, as they were fowls that we were acquainted with. Dear father reasoned with us about it for a long time; but still, though the fowls were made into a pie, we could eat nothing but the crust. I think I should like very much to read the Robins, and also Keeper's Travels in Search of his Master.

  "I hope, dear Laura, you will be able to remember everything you have seen and heard in Boston, that you may have the more to tell us when you come home. I think, after all, there is no book I would prefer to the Arabian Nights--no doubt the Tales of the Genii are also excellent. Dear Laura, how I long to see you again. Paul and Virginia must be very delightful.

  "Yours affectionately,

  "ELLA LOVEL."

  * * * * *

  "DEAR SISTER LAURA--I cried for a long time after you left us, but at last I wiped my eyes, and played with Ponto, and was happy. I have concluded not to want the canary-bird I asked you to get for me, as I think it best to be satisfied by hearing the birds sing on the trees, in the garden, and in the woods. Last night I heard a screech-owl--I would rather have a young fig-tree in a tub--or else, a great quantity of new flower-seeds. If you do not get either the fig-tree or the flower-seeds, I should like a blue cat, such as I have read of: you know those cats are not sky-blue, but only a bluish gray. If a blue cat is not to be had, I should be glad of a pair of white English rabbits; and yet, I think I would quite as willingly have a pair of doves. I never saw a real dove; but if doves are scarce, or cost too much, I shall be satisfied with a pair of fan-tailed pigeons, if they are quite white, and their tails fan very much. If you had a great deal of money to spare, I should like a kid or a fawn, but I know that is impossible; so I will not think of it. Perhaps, when I grow up, I may be a president's wife; if so, I will buy an elephant.

  "Your affectionate sister,

  "ROSA LOVEL."

  "I send k
isses to all the people in Boston that love you."

  How gladly would Laura, had it been in her power, have made everypurchase mentioned in the letters of the two innocent little girls! Andher heart swelled and her eyes overflowed, when she thought how happyshe might have made them at a small part of the expense she had beenpersuaded to lavish on the finery that had given her so little pleasure,and that was now nearly all spoiled.

  Next day was Sunday; and they went to church and heard Mr. Taylor, thecelebrated mariner clergyman, with whose deep pathos and simple goodsense Laura was much interested, while she was at the same time amusedwith his originality and quaintness.

  On returning to the hotel, they found that the morning boat had arrived,and on looking up at the veranda, the first object Laura saw there wasPyam Dodge, standing stiffly with his hands on the railing.

  "Miss Lovel," said Augusta, "there's your friend, the schoolmaster."

  "Mercy upon us," screamed Miss Frampton, "has that horrid fellow comeafter you? Really, Miss Lovel, it was in very bad taste to invite him toNahant."

  "I did not invite him," replied Laura, colouring; "I know not how hediscovered that I was here."

  "The only way, then," said Miss Frampton, "is to cut him dead, and thenperhaps he'll clear off."

  "Pho," said Augusta, "do you suppose he can understand cutting? why hewon't know whether he's cut or not."

  "May I ask who this person is?" said Aubrey Maitland, in a low voice, toLaura. "Is there any stain or any suspicion attached to him?"

  "Oh! no, indeed," replied Laura, earnestly. And, in a few words, as theyascended the stairs, she gave him an outline of the schoolmaster and hischaracter.

  "Then do not cut him at all," said Aubrey. "Let me take the liberty ofsuggesting to you how to receive him." They had now come out into theveranda, and Maitland immediately led Laura up to Pyam Dodge, who bowedprofoundly on being introduced to him, and then turned to our heroine,asked permission to shake hands with her, hoped his company would befound agreeable, and signified that he had been unable to learn whereshe was from Mr. Brantley's servants; but that the evening before, agentleman of Boston had told him that Mr. Brantley and all the familywere at Nahant. Therefore, he had come thither to-day purposely to seeher, and to inform her that the summer vacation having commenced, he wasgoing to pay a visit to his old friends at Rosebrook, and would be verythankful if she would honour him with a letter or message to her family.

  All this was said with much bowing, and prosing, and apologizing. Whenit was finished, Maitland invited Pyam Dodge to take a turn round theveranda with Miss Lovel and himself, and the poor schoolmaster expressedthe most profound gratitude. When they were going to dinner, Aubreyintroduced him to Mrs. Maitland, placed him next to himself at table,and engaged him in a conversation on the Greek classics, in which PyamDodge, finding himself precisely in his element, forgot his humility,and being less embarrassed, was therefore less awkward and absurd thanusual.

  Laura Lovel had thought Aubrey Maitland the handsomest and most elegantyoung man she had ever seen. She now thought him the most amiable.

  In the afternoon, there was a mirage, in which the far-off rocks in thevicinity of Marblehead appeared almost in the immediate neighbourhood ofNahant, coming out in full relief, their forms and colours well-defined,and their height and breadth seemingly much increased. While all thecompany were assembled to look at this singular optical phenomenon(Aubrey Maitland being earnestly engaged in explaining it to ourheroine), Miss Frampton whispered to Laura that she wished particularlyto speak with her, and accordingly drew her away to another part of theveranda.

  Laura turned pale, for she had a presentiment of what was coming. MissFrampton then told her, that presuming she had heard from home, sheconcluded that it would, of course, be convenient to return the trifleshe had lent her; adding, that she wished to give a small commission toa lady that was going to town the next morning.

  Poor Laura knew not what to say. She changed colour, trembled withnervous agitation, and at last faltered out that, in consequence ofknowing her father was from home, she had not yet written to him on thesubject, but that she would do so immediately, and hoped Miss Framptonwould not find it very inconvenient to wait a few days.

  "Why, really, I don't know how I can," replied Miss Frampton; "I want ashawl exactly like Mrs. Horton's. She tells me they are only to be hadat one store in Boston, and that when she got hers the other day, therewere only two left. They are really quite a new style, strange as it isto see anything in Boston that is not quite old-fashioned inPhiladelphia. The money I lent you is precisely the sum for thispurpose. Of course, I am in no want of a shawl--thank Heaven, I havemore than I know what to do with--but, as I told you, these are quite anew style--"

  "Oh! how gladly would I pay you, if I could!" exclaimed Laura, coveringher face with her hands. "What would I give at this moment fortwenty-five dollars!"

  "I hope I am not inconvenient," said the voice of Pyam Dodge, close atLaura's back; "but I have been looking for Miss Laura Lovel, that I maytake my leave, and return to town in the next boat."

  Miss Frampton tossed her head and walked away, to tell Mrs. Horton,confidentially, that Miss Lovel had borrowed twenty-five dollars of herto buy finery; but not to add that she had just been asking her forpayment.

  "If I may venture to use such freedom," pursued Pyam Dodge, "I think,Miss Laura Lovel, I overheard you just now grieving that you could notpay some money. Now, my good child (if you will forgive me for callingyou so), why should you be at any loss for money, when I have justreceived my quarter's salary, and when I have more about me than I knowwhat to do with? I heard you mention twenty-five dollars--here it is(taking some notes out of an enormous pocket-book), and if you want anymore, as I hope you do--"

  "Oh! no, indeed--no," interrupted Laura. "I cannot take it; I would noton any consideration."

  "I know too well," continued Pyam Dodge, "I am not worthy to offer it,and I hope I am not making myself disagreeable. But if, Miss LauraLovel, you would only have the goodness to accept it, you may be sure Iwill never ask you for it as long as I live. I would even take abook-oath not to do so."

  Laura steadily refused the proffered kindness of the poor schoolmaster,and begged Pyam Dodge to mention the subject to her no more. She toldhim that all she now wished was to go home, and that she would write byhim to her family, begging that her father would come for her (as he hadpromised at parting) and take her back to Rosebrook, as soon as hecould. She quitted Pyam Dodge, who was evidently much mortified, andretired to write her letter, which she gave to him as soon as it wasfinished, finding him in the hall taking a ceremonious leave of theMaitlands. He departed, and Laura's spirits were gradually revivedduring the evening by the gratifying attentions and agreeableconversation of Mrs. Maitland and her son.

  When our heroine retired for the night, she found on her table a letterin a singularly uncouth hand, if hand it could be called, where everyword was differently written. It enclosed two ten dollar notes and afive, and was conceived in the following words:

  "This is to inform Miss Laura, eldest daughter of the Reverend EdwardLovel, of Rosebrook, Massachusetts, that an unknown friend of hers,whose name it will be impossible for her to guess (and therefore to makethe attempt will doubtless be entire loss of time, and time is alwaysprecious), having accidentally heard (though by what means is a profoundsecret) that she, at this present time, is in some little difficulty forwant of a small sum of money, he, therefore, this unknown friend, offersto her acceptance the before-mentioned sum, hoping that she will findnothing disgusting in his using so great a liberty."

  "Oh! poor Pyam Dodge!" exclaimed Laura, "why did you take the trouble todisguise and disfigure your excellent handwriting?" And she felt, afterall, what a relief it was to transfer her debt from Miss Frampton to thegood schoolmaster. Reluctant to have any further personal discussion onthis painful subject, she enclosed the notes in a short billet to MissFrampton, and sent it immediately to that lady's apartment. She th
enwent to bed, comparatively happy, slept soundly, and dreamed of AubreyMaitland.

  About the end of the week, Laura Lovel was delighted to see her fatherarrive with Mr. Brantley. As soon as they were alone, she threw herselfinto his arms, and with a flood of tears explained to him theparticulars of all that passed since she left home, and deeply lamentedthat she had allowed herself to be drawn into expenses beyond her meansof defraying, and which her father could ill afford to supply, to saynothing of the pain and mortification they had occasioned to herself.

  "My beloved child," said Mr. Lovel, "I have been much to blame forintrusting you at an age so early and inexperienced, and with noknowledge of a town-life and its habits, to the guidance and example ofa family of whom I knew nothing, except that they were reputable andopulent."

  Mr. Lovel then gave his daughter the agreeable intelligence that thetract of land which was the object of his visit to Maine, and which hadbeen left him in his youth by an old aunt, and was then considered oflittle or no account, had greatly increased in value by a new andflourishing town having sprung up in its immediate vicinity. This tracthe had recently been able to sell for ten thousand dollars, and theinterest of that sum would now make a most acceptable addition to hislittle income.

  He also informed her that Pyam Dodge was then at the village ofRosebrook, where he was "visiting round," as he called it, and that thegood schoolmaster had faithfully kept the secret of the twenty-fivedollars which he had pressed upon Laura, and which Mr. Lovel had nowheard, for the first time, from herself.

  While this conversation was going on between the father and daughter,Mrs. Maitland and her son were engaged in discussing the beauty and theapparent merits of our heroine. "I should like extremely," said Mrs.Maitland, "to invite Miss Lovel to pass the winter with me. But, youknow, we live much in the world, and I fear the limited state of herfather's finances could not allow her to appear as she would wish. Yet,perhaps, I might manage to assist her in that respect, without woundingher delicacy. I think with regret of so fair a flower being 'born toblush unseen, and waste its sweetness on the desert air.'"

  "There is one way," said Aubrey Maitland, smiling and colouring, "bywhich we might have Miss Lovel to spend next winter in Boston, withoutany danger of offending her delicacy, or subjecting her to embarrassmenton account of her personal expenses--a way which would enable her toappear as she deserves, and to move in a sphere that she is so wellcalculated to adorn, though not as _Miss Lovel_."

  "I cannot but understand you, Aubrey," replied Mrs. Maitland, who hadalways been not only the mother, but the sympathizing and confidentialfriend of her son--"yet be not too precipitate. Know more of this younglady, before you go so far that you cannot in honour recede."

  "I know her sufficiently," said Aubrey, with animation. "She is to beunderstood at once, and though I flatter myself that I may have alreadyexcited some interest in her heart, yet I have no reason to supposethat she entertains for me such feelings as would induce her at thistime to accept my offer. She is extremely anxious to get home; she mayhave left a lover there. But let me be once assured that her affectionsare disengaged, and that she is really inclined to bestow them on me,and a declaration shall immediately follow the discovery. A man who,after being convinced of the regard of the woman he loves, can triflewith her feelings, and hesitate about securing her hand, does notdeserve to obtain her."

  Laura had few preparations to make for her departure, which took placethe next morning, Aubrey Maitland and Mr. Brantley accompanying her andher father to town, in the early boat. Mrs. Maitland took leave of heraffectionately, Mrs. Brantley smilingly, Augusta coldly, and MissFrampton not at all.

  Mr. Lovel and his daughter passed that day in Boston, staying at ahotel. Laura showed her father the children's letter. All the books thatElla mentioned were purchased for her, and quite a little menagerie ofanimals was procured for Rosa.

  They arrived safely at Rosebrook. And when Mr. Lovel was invoking ablessing on their evening repast, he referred to the return of hisdaughter, and to his happiness on seeing her once more in her accustomedseat at table, in a manner that drew tears into the eyes of every memberof the family.

  Pyam Dodge was there, only waiting for Laura's arrival, to set out nextmorning on a visit to his relations in Vermont. With his usual want oftact, and his usual kindness of heart, he made so many objections toreceiving the money with which he had accommodated our heroine, that Mr.Lovel was obliged to slip it privately into his trunk before hisdeparture.

  In a few days, Aubrey Maitland came to Rosebrook and established himselfat the principal inn, from whence he visited Laura the evening of hisarrival. Next day he came both morning and evening. On the third day hepaid her three visits, and after that it was not worth while to countthem.

  The marriage of Aubrey and Laura took place at the close of the autumn,and they immediately went into the possession of an elegant residence oftheir own, adjoining the mansion of the elder Mrs. Maitland. They arenow living in as much happiness as can fall to the lot of human beings.

  Before the Nahant season was over, Miss Frampton had quarrelled with oroffended nearly every lady at the hotel, and Mr. Brantley privatelyinsisted that his wife should not invite her to pass the winter withthem. However, she protracted her stay as long as she possibly could,with any appearance of decency, and then returned to Philadelphia, underthe escort of one of Mr. Brantley's clerks. After she came home, hervisit to Boston afforded her a new subject of conversation, in which thepredominant features were general ridicule of the Yankees (as she calledthem), circumstantial slanders of the family to whose hospitality shehad been indebted for more than three months, and particular abuse of"that little wretch Augusta."