had occasionally heard, of his old flame, must have been
incorrect; it was scarcely possible she should look so calm, and
even cheerful, if her father, the Presbyterian minister, had
actually left her not only penniless, but burdened with the
support of a bed-ridden step-mother, and a house full of younger
brothers and sisters. We leave him to satisfy his curiosity as
well as he could.

When was there ever an evening too warm for young people to
dance! Elinor's friends had not been in the room half an hour,
before they discovered that they were just the right number to
make a quadrille agreeable. They were enough to form a double
set; and, while they were dancing, the elder part of the company
were sitting in groups near the windows, to catch the evening
air, and talking over neighbourly matters, or looking on at their
young friends.

"Don't you think Elinor very graceful?" exclaimed Mrs. Van Horne
to her friend, Mrs. Bernard. "I like to watch her, while she is
dancing; her movements are all so pleasing and easy, never, in
the least, exaggerated--but, it is in her very nature; she has
always been the same, from a little creature."

"Yes," replied Mrs. Bernard; "but it is a pity her face should be
so ugly; for she has rather a pretty figure--"

"Do you think her really ugly? She does not strike me, as so very
plain--there is nothing repulsive in her face. I have known girls
called pretty, who had something far nearer coarseness in their
features. It is true, I have been accustomed to see her from the