Georgiana Lincoln was exactly opposite in appearance to the Puritan girl. A high polish and elegance of tone and manner marked her at once as the English lady of rank. Her style of beauty was one uncommon in America. A bright, sunny brunette, the soft brown of her skin was warmed with a rich crimson--the dewy coral has its freshness but not its brightness. Her tall figure was almost concealed by a white robe which still revealed the most exquisite proportions of her figure. Grace Bartlett gazed on her with admiration, and endeavored to prove her gratitude by some expressions of thankfulness; but the touching mournfulness of her sweet face too painfully revealed that the causes she had for sorrow were not forgotten with her returning consciousness. A settled melancholy followed her recovery. Every thing was done to arouse her from this. Among other resources that were adopted, she was taken to the boudoir of her hostess and companion, where birds and flowers formed the ornaments. But not the singing of the one, nor the odor of the other brought delight to her heart. What were music and perfume to her but agony? To all Georgiana Lincoln’s attempts at consolation she listened with a calm look of hopeless misery which plainly told how incapable she was of receiving condolence. But despite all her causes for grief, and the deep melancholy that consumed her, Grace could not but be touched with the kindness lavished on her by the wealthy lady. Insensibly the poor girl wound her feelings around her, and bestowed on her all that she had of affection that was left from the grave of her parents, and the memory of her lover. One evening, when the unhappy maiden was unusually depressed, she was seated in the boudoir of her new acquaintance. “Thou art sadder than thy wont, sweet one,” said the latter, kissing the brow of the young Puritan. “But if naught in thy own situation can add to thy happiness, gladly as any change should be made in it at thy slightest bidding, I feel sure at least that one shadow will pass from thy sympathetic nature at hearing of thy friend’s prospect of happiness. Rejoice with me, Grace, my brother is expected home.” “It doth, indeed, please me that thou art about to have any contribution to thy fullness of joy,” replied the poor girl, with a faint smile, and a pressure of her companion’s hand. “We will have a series of festivities in honor of his arrival,” resumed the other; “and if you will not participate, dear Grace, in the dancing and merriment, you can at any rate be present to observe the company, and listen to the music. No wonder that thou weariest without other society than that of thy tedious friend.” Our heroine smiled again, but more faintly than before, as if the tidings of the expected fêtes had little or no interest for her.