Mrs. Belson received this confidence with evident disappointment, as well as surprise; and changing to a cold seriousness, asked if she might be allowed to communicate the information to Eugenia. 1 .." I can have no wish to withhold it," said Tremaine. To his great joy, it seemed to make no difference in the feelings of that young lady, or if any, only to' release her from the little restraint she had hitherto imposed upon her expressions of admiration and regard for him. But this did not satisfy her more prudent mamma; who, with no unreasonable caution, expressed so much anxiety at an intercourse, which she said might destroy her daughter's peace, while it never could crown her affection as it deserved, that, as a price almost for permission to remain, Tremaine was forced to beat a parley, and come to terms. was therefore settled that after a little time he should return to England, and obtain the release of his promise to his uncle, of giving him the disposal of a heart which was no longer his own. It Mrs. Belson was prudent enough to be very particular in endeavouring to sift out how far he was in this likely to succeed; but she could learn no more than that he had the best hopes; failing in which, he would still beg to present himself to Eugenia with such chances as his own very small fortune might afford him. Mrs. Belson balanced some time upon this, as any good mother would, and talked of the proper authority of relations on whom we depend, but Eugenia coming to Tremaine's aid, and declaring that she would rather be his friend, than even the wife of a richer man, she yielded, and Tremaine gave himself up to happiness without alloy. 1 t "What treason there is mingled with your love! SHAKSPEARE. AN incident, however, now occurred, critical to the happiness of our man of refinement. He could not be so much in the family of Mrs. Belson, nor so pointedly the favourite of that lady and Eugenia, without feeling his interest extend to her younger sisters. Lavinia, the next in age, though not above thirteen or fourteen, was of peculiar vivacity, and possessed great powers of observation. She often rallied them both upon their friendship-laying a particular emphasis upon the word; and, in mere girlish spirits, would sometimes exclaim," Poor Captain Monson!" and then, as if conscious of having done wrong, would run away, and appear no more for some time. Tremaine, from the first curious, became in the end alarmed at this; and at length requested to know of Eugenia what the espièglerie meant;—who Captain Monson was, and what interest he had in connection with hers? Eugenia with firmness enough, and a sincerity of manner which calmed much of his fear, said it was due to his friendship that he should know. "He was a ward of my father," said she, "a very few years older than myself; bred up from infancy with me; of great worth: and who once gave me his love." "And for no return?" asked Tremaine, in an agitation he could not conceal. "Ah! what can I say?" exclaimed Eugenia. "You do not like me for this confession!" "I have heard none," answered Tremaine, "and I wait an honest avowal." "You shall have it," said Eugenia-"I did love him, to a degree." "To a degree! could you then measure love so exactly? You! so young, so enthusiastic, and so sincere !" Eugenia did not notice, or perhaps did not understand Tremaine's, quibble on her girlish expression of "to a degree," but proceeded :-" I have told my mother, who questioned me on this subject, that my heart is now so full of my friend, that I have forgotten, ah! for ever forgotten, my former childish attachment." At these words she turned a pair of soft blue eyes, filled with tears, on Tremaine,—who, though he felt much penetrated, was also evidently much troubled. "You are agitated, Miss Belson!" "Miss Belson! oh, heavens! I have lost your kindness!" "Not so! But give me leave to ask, did Captain Monson know of this love of your's to a degree?" "He did," said Eugenia, with fresh agitation at the gravity of Tremaine's manner. "And has any thing lately passed, that your mother questioned you?" "Alas! yes! He has succeeded to much property, and is coming here; but it will be of no use." "And why not?" asked Tremaine, evidently softened, yet with a distance of tone he could not prevent. 66 Ah, cruel friend! you know, yet are displeased;" and her agitation became so great, that she covered her face with her hands, and sobbed aloud. "My dear Eugenia," said Tremaine, quite brought round, "let us not afflict each other; if you love this young soldier" 1 “Oh! I do not! Every thing is broken off, and you have taught me what alone I can love. I may not be your's, but never shall I be found the wife of bulq or zlotaulo Monson." "Ah! if it were so !" exclaimed Tremaine, some N what off his guard; and then bursting from her, he retreated to his inn, where he shut himself up for the rest of the evening. ,』" k He passed it in the most cruel state of anxiety; a cup filled with Nepenthe seemed dashed from his lips; the virgin heart which had appeared ready to bless him, was no longer virgin. The image of another was, or at least might be mingled with his; and this child of nature was not so much a child, but that she could take exact measure of the affection she bore to different people. "Well! and why not?" said he, recovering a little from the agony he had been in-""Tis true her heart is not absolutely maiden; but what heart at seventeen has not been touched by love? And her honesty is at least unimpaired; it has even shone |