Adrienne loves Betts more than any thing else. Still she loves me dearly. Scarce a week passes that I am not in her hands; and it is when her present happiness seems to be overflowing, that she is most fond of recalling the painful hours she experienced in making me what I am. Then her tears flow freely, and often I am held in her soft little hand, while she prays for the soul of her grandmother, or offers up praises for her own existing blessings. I am no longer thought of for balls and routs, but appear to be doomed to the closet, and those moments of tender confidence that so often occur between these lovers. I complain not. So far from it, never was an "article" of my character more highly favored; passing an existence, as it might be, in the very bosom of truth and innocence. Once only have I seen an old acquaintance, in the person of Clara Caverly, since my change of mistress--the idea of calling a de la Rocheaimard, a boss, or bossess, is out of the question. Clara is a distant relative of Betts, and soon became intimate with her new cousin. One day she saw me lying on a table, and, after an examination, she exclaimed-- "Two things surprise me greatly here, Mrs. Shoreham--that YOU should own one of these THINGS"--I confess I did not like the word--"and that you should own this particular handkerchief." "Why so, chere Clara?"--how prettily my mistress pronounces that name; so different from Clarry! "It is not like YOU to purchase so extravagant and useless a THING--and then this looks like a handkerchief that once belonged to another person--a poor girl who has lost her means of extravagance by the change of the times. But, of course, it is only a resemblance, as YOU--" "It is more, Clara--the handkerchief is the same. But that handkerchief is not an article of dress with me; it is MY FRIEND!" The reader may imagine how proud I felt! This was elevation for the species, and gave a dignity to my position, with which I am infinitely satisfied. Nevertheless, Miss Caverly manifested surprise. "I will explain," continued Mrs. Shoreham. "The handkerchief is my own work, and is very precious to me, on account des souvenirs." {des souvenirs = of memories} Adrienne then told the whole story, and I may say Clara Caverly became my friend also. Yes, she, who had formerly regarded me with indifference, or dislike, now kissed me, and wept over me, and in this manner have I since passed from friend to friend, among all of Adrienne's intimates.