self—I know my own heart, and I have never lost the control of it."

Bessie sighed and was silent. Agnes kissed her soft cheek and whispered, "I appreciate your anxiety for me, sister, but my happiness cannot be promoted in the way you suppose. So brighten up, love, for my lot will be a bright and happy one, spite of all your fears—my heart is not one of the soft kind, that would break for love. But look out of the window; there is Ralph !"

"Ah! yes, mon ange!" cried Bessie joyfully, the sunlight coming back into her blue eyes.

"Mon ange!" repeated Agnes smiling, though she curved her lip with pretended disdain, "you had better open the front door for him and spring into his arms—he looks up here so smiling and confident, I dare say he expects you to do so!"

"Not I, indeed!" answered Bessie, assuming a prudish, demure deportment 66 You know he is a rejected lover and I must act accordingly. Bless me! he has rung the bell twice, and that slow, poking Bridget hasn't come up the kitchen stairs yet."

"Well, I will make my escape now," said Agnes," and leave you and Ralph to make yourselves ridiculous alone.” She went, and in a moment Ralph came in, his fine face glowing with mischief, love and happiness. My Bessie, how are you!" he exclaimed, glancing upon the charming girl with a heart-warm smile of delight.

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“I am very well, I thank you, Mr. Anson!" she replied bowing politely, without rising however, and extending her little hand. Ralph looked into her demure face, shook

hands very gravely, then both burst into a hearty fit of laughter; before an hour had gone, Bessie had found out that it was the proper time to say yes.

Agnes had sought her chamber; she sat down by the window; her cheek glowed and her proud, dark eyes flashed. "I love him indeed!" she said, and she smiled scornfully as if she despised herself for supposing such a thing. But memory turned over the leaves of her young existence. Her magic hand stole from the past its brightest gem, its sweet oasis. Ah! still a glory beamed around it, which pride itself could not hide; and the young girl bent her head and wept over her infatuation as she thought it. How strangely bold we are in our hopes of happiness, while the sunny sky of youth is over us, before it has been coldly darkened by some heavy grief! How insensate is the ambitious pride that sets its dainty foot upon the richest, purest flowers that bloom in the garden of life! The experienced and noble-hearted ones tell us we are wrong; that the path of life may be a path of thorns to us— how incredulously we listen! And then the silver shout of confidence rings forth from the youthful spirit. Ah! no—it cannot be; we are too strong for despair. Thus thought Agnes; she had not met with those trials that teach us to value true happiness before the apparent. She stood upon the threshold of existence and clasped her girlish treasures of bright imaginings to her bosom as she looked back—they threw a glow upon her future; they told her the world was yet all brightness-and yet how passing fair was that beautiful oasis still to her eye; in it she had realized her happy dreams should she blot it out from her future and trust to visions as happy, yet more proud? Would she indeed ever

:

be so happy again, if Wetmore were lost to her? She trembled, she doubted; but her evil pride came to her support. The tea-bell rang, and she descended with a smooth brow, and with cheerful words took part in the conversation at the evening meal. A few weeks later she wrote thus in her journal :

"June 12th.-Would to heaven I could unwind my tangled feelings and know how to act and feel! Am I deceiving myself? Am I doing wrong to persist in repelling George? Do I really love him as Bessie says I do? But no! Why do I let a thought of having him cross my mind? Ah! I am indeed almost proud enough to break my heart! But I cannot have him; I cannot bear all the privations that would fall to the lot of his wife. Nonsense! I do not care very much for him. His own soul pours briefly over mine its burning light and I forget; his joy becomes mine, it is but the momentary reflection of his spirit. I will not see him often. Would that I was more like Bessie! I can become like her, if I will; but the spirits of darkness are around me, and I will not will it. How truly do I realize that I am possessed of two natures-sometimes I am cruel, selfish and worldly, and again I yearn after that goodness which cometh from above. When I am with George, he always leads me into the regions of pure thought; then it seems as if it would be so noble to lay my best gifts at the feet of my fellow creatures; to live only that I might make others happy, or pluck the sharp arrow of pain from some bleeding heart. He seems so solicitous that I should become pure and good. Ah! when the white wing of my guardian angel is over me,

I could sink at his feet and promise that my life, my pride, my soul, my all should be given up to him. I tremble at the strong intensity of passion that floods my heart. I have indeed deceived myself. Last night at church, I noticed that expression on his countenance which Bessie had spoken of as so splendid and spiritual. I turned my head away, and before I was aware tears were running down my face: and why did I weep? It was for him, for myself; because I, wretched one, was to darken his noble spirit, and because I could not surrender my ambition to a better affection. Bessie calls me so firm, so unyielding, so decided, and yet if she could look into my heart, she would see that I am in a constant agony of indecision. She pleads so nobly, so artlessly for George. I listen coldly, while a tempest rages in my heart. I yield in spirit to her eloquence a thousand times; I see with her clear, meek eyes; I resolve to meet George, and cast aside this chain of coldness beneath which I fret; but then the demon of pride starts up-it cannot be! Never before could I acknowledge that it was pride alone that governed me. And yet I have no dream of marrying without love. It was but yesterday that I received an offer, which would have gratified my pride to the utmost. I have no doubt that Lincoln loves me sincerely, but his love seems cold and measured when I think of the warm heart of George. He laid his splendid fortune at my feet; wealth greater than my ambitious dreams had sought, but it did not raise one tempting thought. I turned coldly away, for I trembled to take a step that would break the golden links that bound my heart to George. And yet I sighed, for if I but loved Lincoln I could be so proud of him; I could glory in his powerful

mind; I could be so supremely happy. This world would be too enchanting a paradise if I could tear this passionate idolatry from one object and give it to another. I have heard many persons say that first love is fleeting as the morning cloud. It enwraps the early sky with hues golden and dazzling; but they fade away, and many another sun of affection rises and chases into forgetfulness the first. So it may be with me. I think I do not deceive myself when I imagine that I can crush out this love from my nature. But shall I do it? I knew not how strong it was until I sought to cast it from me. I cannot decide yet."

Poor Agnes! she little knew the sorrow she was laying up for herself by those hard struggles to uproot a noble affection; she might conquer her own will, perhaps, but not the · love enshrined within her heart of hearts,

"Quiet, yet flowing deep, as the Rhine among rivers."

Often the sigh of envy escaped her as she witnessed the pure, frank happiness of Bessie and her lover. And yet she could not believe that she was casting away a jewel that she might never find again; others might love her, but would the vision rise again in her own breast? She firmly believed it would. Mr. Lincoln slowly gained an influence over her; he ministered to her pride; he was ten years her senior, and having had some experience in "la belle passion," he did not at all doubt his power of winning in the end the beautiful and gifted creature who had dared to refuse him. The calm, though respectful rejection of the haughty girl, only made him admire her the more; he then felt that she was above all sordid motives. He had won many hearts in his day, and