him, though »he had concealed her passion; 
she had now no longer any cause to dis¬ 
semble, and in less than a month they were 
man and wife. They were happy too, 
though no maidens dre-sed in white strew¬ 
ed flowers at their wedding; and as the 
dispositions of both were naturally amiable, 
happy they continued to be till the demon 
of jealousy interfered to disturb their hap¬ 
piness. 
It was perfectly natural that the captain 
should not be able to view Emily with total 
indifference; and it was equally natural that 
Emily should still feel some interest for the 
captain. He saw in her a charming wom¬ 
an, who, but for her father’s prohibition, 
would have been his wife: she beheld in 
him an amiable man, whose first love she 
had been, and—as her vanity whispered— 
perhaps still was. Neither ever indulged 
in the most distant hint at their former 
situation, but he spoke with more shyness 
to her than to any other woman; and she 
answered him with greater embarrassment 
than any other man. Their behavior did 
not escape the notice of the young count, in 
whom it excited considerable uneasiness. 
As lie had just been reading a novel, in 
which a sensible husband had by a gener¬ 
ous confidence prevented his wife from dis¬ 
honoring herself, he determined to conceal 
his disquietude, and even pretended to be 
pleased when Emily paid frequent visits to 
Laura. ‘Why don’t you go to see Laura ?’ 
he would sometimes say. ‘Tis a long time 
since you visited her. It is my wish that 
you should not neglect your friend.’ This 
was the first white lie (as it is commonly 
called) that paved the way to the subse¬ 
quent catastrophe. The strange behavior 
of her husband and her friend had equally 
forced itself upon Laura’s notice, and had 
given her no less uneasiness. She was 
ashamed, however, to confess it to either. 
The captain, indeed, once asked, in a mo¬ 
ment of confidence, ‘Are you inclined to be 
jealous? and she replied with a laugh, 
‘O, no!’—This was the second untruth on 
which the demon of mischief built his plan. 
The winter passed pretty quietly. The 
fire glowed under the ashes. One day in 
the following spring, the young count was 
invited to a party of pleasure in the coun¬ 
try. The person who gave the invitation 
was a bachelor, an inveterate enemy to the 
sex even in spring, and whose convivial 
parties therefore consisted entirely of men. 
The count was not to return till the next 
morning. Emily was left at home a prey 
to ennui. In this situation she received a 
message from Laura, who sent her word 
that her husband would be on duty that 
night, that he would not return home till 
morning, and therefore she wquld be glad 
if Emily would spend the evening with 
her. Emily rejoiced in the prospect of 
passing a few hours agreeably, and com¬ 
plied. Her bookseller had just sent her the 
first two volumes of one of the most inter¬ 
esting novels that had appeared for many 
years. These she took with her to her 
friends, and on her arrival there sent home 
her carriage. The ladies diverted them¬ 
selves in the most innocent manner, and 
after supper Emily proposed to read for 
half an hour longer. Half an hour was 
prolonged to an hour, and one hour to two. 
The book became more fascinating the far¬ 
ther she proceeded; Emily forgot to send 
for her carriage; and it was three o’clock 
in the morning when the captain returned, 
and found her still engaged in reading. 
The ladies were frightened when they 
heard how late it was. Emily snatched up 
gloves and shawl, requested her friend to 
send for a hackney coach, and hurried 
away. The captain of course, handed her 
to it; and what was perfectly natural, re¬ 
quested permission to attend her home, 
as he could not think of suffering her to go 
alone. She declined his offer, but he per¬ 
sisted, Emily became embarrassed. Tf,’ 
thought she, ‘I accept his company, I shall 
be, for the length of four or five streets, in 
the most painful situation, alone with a 
man who (loth as I am to confess it) is not 
wholly indifferent to me. Should I refuse, 
he may prehaps fancy that I am afraid of 
him.’ This last consideration revolted her 
pride, her pride overcame her fears, and she 
consented. Laura was thrilled by a most 
unpleasant sensation. Her husband alone 
with Emily! the way not short! the morn¬ 
ing fine! She turned away, and strove to 
conceal the pangs of jealousy under the 
disguise of affected carelessness. ‘Make 
