defects in beauty without the shadow of a blemish. Had some wicked sprite
but whispered in her ear one thought injurious to the memory of her
departed husband, Margaret would have shrunk from its reception, and would
have scorned to acknowledge it as her own. Time, she felt and owned with
gratitude, had assuaged her sorrows--had removed the sting from her
calamity, but had not rendered her one jot less sensible to the great
claims _he_ held, even now, on her affection. From the hour of Mildred's
decease up to the present moment, the widow had considered herself
strictly bound by the vow which she had proposed to take, and would have
taken, but for the dying man's earnest prohibition. Her conscience told
her that that prohibition, so far from setting her free from the
engagement, did but render her more liable to fulfill it. Her feelings
coincided with the judgment of her understanding. Both pronounced upon her
the self-inflicted verdict of eternal widowhood. How long this sentence
would have been respected, had Michael never interfered to argue its
repeal, it is impossible to say; as a general remark it may be stated,
that nothing is so delusive as the heroic declarations we make in seasons
of excitement--no resolution is in such danger of becoming forfeited as
that which Nature never sanctioned and which depends for its existence
only upon a state of feeling which every passing hour serves to enfeeble
and suppress.

When Margaret reached her breakfast-room, she found a nosegay on the table,
and Mr Michael Allcraft's card. He had called to make enquiries at a very
early hour of the morning, and had signified his intention of returning on
affairs of business later in the day. Margaret blushed deeper than the
rose on which her eyes were bent, and took alarm; her first determination
was to be denied to him; the second--far more rational--to receive him as
the partner in the banking-house, to transact the necessary business, and
then dismiss him as a stranger, distantly, but most politely. This was as