686 A Story of the Heart. [JuNE, 



he had over her, and in talking of the brilliant prospects that he anticipated 

 in the future. 



It was with this lady hanging on his arm, that he first again beheld 

 Emily Sidney. The bloom of youth was gone, the form wasted, the ringlets 

 confined beneath a gauze cap ; the figure no longer joyous with content, but 

 shackled by despondency and disappointment. She arose as she beheld 

 him the young Baronet was at her side. 



" I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you well," said Delacour, with 

 his unchanging eye fixed full upon her face. She blushed, faltered, and 

 murmured an assent. " I beg your pardon," he added, " but I hear you 

 only indistinctly. You say that you are well, surely." She fixed her ex- 

 pressive look reproachfully upon him. " I am better than I. have been," 

 she returned, " indeed quite well," and so they parted. The words that 

 had been spoken were the common compliments of the day : but oh ! the 

 manner said everything. On that night she burnt a little likeness she had 

 drawn of him from memory ; she cast aside all embarrassment, she quitted 

 her sick room, dressed, sung, laughed, danced and played as she was used 

 to do 5 she hurried into company, into amusement, was as much admired 

 as ever, as usual sought as when she had a fortune : but her parents saw 

 the dark side of the picture, the young girl's heart was broken. 



Can it be possible that Delacour went home that night in remorseless 

 complacency ? That no compunction dwelt within his breast that no con- 

 science visited his thoughts that the faded form of nature's loveliness 

 the sweet confusion that pleaded, like the tongue of mercy and of truth 

 that, last of all, that look had spoken nothing ! It is impossible. He knew 

 he was to blame he writhed under the infliction of secret regret he thought 

 he had not acted quite honorably quite tenderly but for all that he 

 would have started at the name of villain. Yet it was for his good he 

 should act as he had done ; she would marry the Baronet ; his destiny, and 

 not himself, was to be reproached, and, shifting from any further argument, 

 he hastened to conclude affairs with the lady in question. 



Now came the confusion of preparation. Parties were given and 

 received, and the round of reciprocal introduction took place, and, in the 

 sudden rush of coming events, Delacour lost all recollection of the past, 

 and sacrificed its memory for ever on the altar of futurity. The world 

 was determined to make him pleased, and he was resolute to be so. The 

 house was taken, furniture, table-linen, the elegances of a lady's comforts, 

 all were procured, and all in the exact taste that might best suit both 

 parties. Business was no longer attended to, for Delacour was at each 

 and every hour of the day prosecuting his love-suit, and the lady was, at all 

 times, his attentive listener. The marriage deeds and the settlement were 

 next talked about, for marriages, at least such marriages as these, gene- 

 rally end as they begin, in a very business-like manner. But now, on the 

 exposure of the absolute property, on the explanation of the contingent 

 prospects of Mr. Delacour, he was found, by the father, or might it be 

 by the lady ? he was found deficient, that is, not quite the exact bargain 

 that was expected. They tell that the lady, hearing he had boasted of her 

 preference, fearing too easy a conquest, adopted this pretty piece of 

 coquetry, in hopes of being over-persuaded. Be this as it may 5 at the 

 moment of doubt and denial, at the moment when the lady hinted that her 

 decision had been entirely in obedience to her parents, not that she had in 

 the least changed, then it was that Delacour perceived he had been a 



