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before witness in a

young lady, though whether it be for the better or the worse----These

are ominous words, too--for 'better or worse, for richer or

poorer'----"

 

"You are in fine spirits this evening, my dear Mrs. Bloomfield, and

appear to have entered into the gaieties of the Fun of Fire, with all

your--"

 

"Might, will be a homely, but an expressive word. Your Templeton Fun

of Fire is fiery fun, for it has cost us something like a general

conflagration. Mrs. Hawker has been near a downfall, like your great

namesake, by a serpent's coming too near her dress; one barn, I hear,

has actually been in a blaze, and Sir George Templemore's heart is in

cinders. Mr. John Effingham has been telling me that he should not

have been a bachelor, had there been two Mrs. Bloomfields in the

world, and Mr. Powis looks like a rafter dugout of Herculaneum,

nothing but coal."

 

"And what occasions this pleasantry?" asked Eve, so composed in

manner that her friend was momentarily deceived.

 

Mrs. Bloomfield took a seat on the sofa, by the side of our heroine,

and regarding her steadily for near a minute, she continued--

 

"Hypocrisy and Eve Effingham can have little in common, and my ears

must have deceived me."

 

"Your ears, dear Mrs. Bloomfield!"

 

"My ears, dear Miss Effingham. I very well know the character of an

eaves-dropper, but if gentlemen will make passionate declarations in

the walk of a garden, with nothing but a little shrubbery between his

ardent declarations and the curiosity of those who may happen to be

passing, they must expect to be overheard."

 

Eve's colour had gradually increased as her friend proceeded; and

when the other ceased speaking, as bright a bloom glowed on her

countenance, as had shone there when she first entered the room.

 

"May I ask the meaning of all this?" she said, with an effort to

appear calm.

 

"Certainly, my dear; and you shall also know the _feelings_ that

prompt it, as well as the meaning," returned Mrs. Bloomfield, kindly

taking Eve's hand in a way to show that she did not mean to trifle

further on a subject that was of so much moment to her young friend.

"Mr. John Effingham and myself were star-gazing at a point where two

walks approach each other, just as you and Mr. Powis were passing in

the adjoining path. Without absolutely stepping our ears, it was

quite impossible not to hear a portion of your conversation. We both

tried to behave honourably; for I coughed, and your kinsman actually

hemmed, but we were unheeded."

 

"Coughed and hemmed!" repeated Eve, in greater confusion than ever.

"There must be some mistake, dear Mrs. Bloomfield, as I remember to

have heard no such signals."

 

"Quite likely, my love, for there was a time when I too had ears for

only one voice; but you can have affidavits to the fact, _a la mode

de New England_, if you require them. Do not mistake my motive,

nevertheless, Miss Effingham, which is any thing but vulgar

curiosity"--here Mrs. Bloomfield looked so kind and friendly, that

Eve took both her hands and pressed them to her heart--"you are

motherless; without even a single female connexion of a suitable age

to consult with on such an occasion, and fathers after all are but

men----"

 

"Mine is as kind, and delicate, and tender, as any woman can be, Mrs.

Bloomfield."

 

"I believe it all, though he may not be quite as quick-sighted, in an

affair of this nature.--Am I at liberty to speak to you as if I were

an elder sister?"

 

"Speak, Mrs. Bloomfield, as frankly as you please, but leave me the

mistress of my answers."

 

"It is, then, as I suspected," said Mrs. Bloomfield, in a sort of

musing manner; "the men have been won over, and this young creature

has absolutely been left without a protector in the most important

moment of her life!"

 

"Mrs. Bloomfield!--What does this mean?--What _can_ it mean?"

 

"It means merely general principles, child; that your father and

cousin have been parties concerned, instead of vigilant sentinels;

and, with all their pretended care, that you have been left to grope

your way in the darkness of female uncertainty, with one of the most

pleasing young men in the country constantly before you, to help the

obscurity."

 

It is a dreadful moment, when we are taught to doubt the worth of

those we love; and Eve became pale as death, as she listened to the

words of her friend. Once before, on the occasion of Paul's return to

England, she had felt a pang of that sort, though reflection, and a

calm revision of all his acts and words since they first met in

Germany, had enabled her to get the better of indecision, and when

she first saw him on the mountain, nearly every unpleasant

apprehension and distrust had been dissipated by an effort of pure

reason. His own explanations had cleared up the unpleasant affair,

and, from that moment, she had regarded him altogether with the eyes

of a confiding partiality. The speech of Mrs. Bloomfield now sounded

like words of doom to her, and, for an instant, her friend was

frightened with the effects of her own imperfect communication. Until

that moment Mrs. Bloomfield had formed no just idea of the extent to

which the feelings of Eve were interested in Paul, for she had but an

imperfect knowledge of their early association in Europe, and she

sincerely repented having introduced the subject at all. It was too

late to retreat, however, and, first folding Eve in her arms, and

kissing her cold forehead, she hastened to repair a part, at least,

of the mischief she had done.

 

"My words have been too strong, I fear," she said, "but such is my

general horror of the manner in which the young of our sex, in this

country, are abandoned to the schemes of the designing and selfish of

the other, that I am, perhaps, too sensitive when I see any one that

I love thus exposed. You are known, my dear, to be one of the richest

heiresses of the country; and, I blush to say that no accounts of

European society that we have, make fortune-hunting a more regular

occupation there, than it has got to be here."

 

The paleness left Eve's face, and a look of slight displeasure

succeeded.

 

"Mr. Powis is no fortune-hunter, Mrs. Bloomfield," she said,

steadily; "his whole conduct for three years has been opposed to such

a character; and, then, though not absolutely rich, perhaps, he has a

gentleman's income, and is removed from the necessity of being

reduced to such an act of baseness."

 

"I perceive my error, but it is now too late to retreat. I do not say

that Mr. Powis is a fortune-hunter, but there are circumstances

connected with his history, that you ought at least to know, and that

immediately. I have chosen to speak to you, rather than to speak to

your father, because I thought you might like a female confidant on

such occasion, in preference even to your excellent natural

protector. The idea of. Mrs. Hawker occurred to me, on account of her

age; but I did not feel authorised to communicate to her a secret of

which I had myself become so accidentally possessed,'

 

"I appreciate your motive fully, dearest Mrs. Bloomfield," said Eve,

smiling with all her native sweetness, and greatly relieved, for she

now began to think that too keen a sensitiveness on the subject of

Paul had unnecessarily alarmed her, "and beg there may be no reserves

between us. If you know a reason why Mr. Powis should not be received

as a suitor, I entreat you to mention it."

 

"Is he Mr. Powis at all?"

 

Again Eve smiled, to Mrs. Bloomfield's great, surprise, for, as the

latter had put the question with sincere reluctance, she was

astonished at the coolness with which it was received.

 

"He is not Mr. Powis, legally perhaps, though he might be, but that

he dislikes the publicity of an application to the legislature. His

paternal name is Assheton."

 

"You know his history, then!"

 

"There has been no reserve on the part of Mr. Powis; least of all,

any deception."

 

Mrs. Bloomfield appeared perplexed, even distressed; and there was a

brief space, during which her mind was undecided as to the course she

ought to take. That she had committed an error by attempting a

consultation, in a matter of the heart, with one of her own sex,

after the affections were engaged, she discovered when it was too

late; but she prized Eve's friendship too much, and had too just a

sense of what was due to herself, to leave the affair where it was,

or without clearing up her own unasked agency in it.

 

"I rejoice to learn this," she said, as soon as her doubts had ended,

"for frankness, while it is one of the safest, is one of the most

beautiful traits in human character; but beautiful though it be, it

is one that the other sex uses least to our own."

 

"Is our own too ready to use it to the other?"

 

"Perhaps not: it might be better for both parties, were there less

deception practised during the period of courtship, generally: but as

this is hopeless, and might, destroy some of the most pleasing

illusions of life, we will not enter into a treatise on the frauds of

Cupid, Now to my own confessions, which I make all the more

willingly, because I know they are uttered to the ear of one of a

forgiving temperament, and who is disposed to view even my follies

favourably."

 

The kind but painful smile of Eve, assured the speaker she was not

mistaken, and she continued, after taking time to read the expression

of the countenance of her young friend--

 

"In common with all of New-York, that town of babbling misses, who

prattle as water flows, without consciousness or effort, and of

whiskered masters, who fancy Broadway the world, and the flirtations

of miniature drawing-rooms, human nature, I believed, on your return

from Europe, that an accepted suitor followed in your train, in the

person of Sir George Templemore."

 

"Nothing in my deportment, or in that of Sir George, or in that of

any of my family, could justly have given rise to such a notion,"

said Eve, quickly.

 

"Justly! What has justice, or truth, or even probability, to do with

a report, of which love and matrimony are the themes? Do you not know

_society_ better than to fancy this improbability, child?"

 

"I know that our own sex would better consult their own dignity and

respectability, my dear Mrs. Bloomfield, if they talked less of such

matters; and that they would be more apt to acquire the habits of

good taste, not to say of good principles, if they confined their

strictures more to things and sentiments than they do, and meddled

less with persons."

 

"And pray, is there no tittle-tattle, no scandal, no commenting on

one's neighbours, in other civilized nations besides this?"

 

"Unquestionably; though I believe, as a rule, it is every where

thought to be inherently vulgar, and a proof of low associations."

 

"In that, we are perfectly of a mind; for, if there be any thing that

betrays a consciousness of inferiority, it is our rendering others of

so much obvious importance to ourselves, as to make them the subjects

of our constant conversation. We may speak of virtues, for therein we

pay an homage to that which is good; but when we come to dwell on

personal faults, it is rather a proof that we have a silent

conviction of the superiority of the subject of our comments to

ourselves, either in character, talents, social position, or

something else that is deemed essential, than of our distaste for his

failings. Who, for instance, talks scandal of his grocer, or of his

shoemaker? No, no, our pride forbids this; we always make our betters

the subject of our strictures by preference, taking up with our

equals only when we can get none of a higher class."

 

"This quite reconciles me to having been given to Sir George

Templemore, by the world of New-York," said Eve, smiling.

 

"And well it may, for they who have prattled of your engagement, have

done so principally because they are incapable of maintaining a

conversation on any thing else. But, all this time, I fear I stand

accused in your mind, of having given advice unasked, and of feeling

an alarm in an affair that affected others, instead of myself, which

is the very sin that we lay at the door of our worthy Manhattanese.

In common with all around me, then, I fancied Sir George Templemore

an accepted lover, and, by habit, had gotten to associate you

together in my pictures. Oh my arrival here, however, I will confess

that Mr. Powis, whom, you will remember, I had never seen before,

struck me as much the most dangerous man.--Shall I own all my

absurdity?"

 

"Even to the smallest shade."

 

"Well, then, I confess to having supposed that, while