“I happened one afternoon to be walking on the Battery with the two cousins, when we overtook an acquaintance who was unattended, except by a young brother. We immediately joined her, and, with a feeling of gratified vanity, (knowing that she had once diligently sought to attract Mr. Harcourt,) I stepped back, and taking the arm of Louis, left the lady in uninterrupted possession, _for a short time_, of my handsome lover. There was a mean and petty triumph in my heart at which I now blush, and, as I looked up into the face of my companion, after performing the manœuvre, I was almost startled at the stern contempt which was visible in his countenance.” “‘Come, Mr. Heyward, do make yourself agreeable for once,’ I exclaimed, with levity, ‘do tell me you are flattered by my preference of your society.’ “‘I never utter untruths,’ was the cold reply. “My first impulse was to withdraw my arm from his, but I restrained myself, and flippantly said: “‘You are as complimentary as usual, I perceive.’ “‘Would you have me to feel flattered by being made the tool of your vanity, Madam?’ said he, while his cheek flushed and his eye sparkled; ‘do I not know that you only sought to gratify a malicious triumph over your less fortunate rival?’ “A denial rose to my lips, but my conscience forbade me to utter it. I was perfectly silent—yet, perhaps, there was something of penitence in my countenance, for he immediately added: “‘Good Heavens! Mildred,—Miss Marchmont, I mean—what capabilities of mind,—what noble characteristics of feeling you are daily wasting in society! How rapidly are the weeds of evil passion springing up amid the rich plants of virtue which are still rooted in your heart! How awful is the responsibility of one so nobly gifted as yourself!’ “‘What do you mean, sir?’ exclaimed I, startled at his earnestness. “‘Have you never read the parable of the unfaithful steward who hid his talent in the earth?’ was his reply: ‘God has given you beauty and mental power, and wealth and influence; yet what is your beauty but a snare?—What are your talents but instruments to gratify your vanity? Where is your wealth expended if not in ministering to your luxuries? What suffering fellow-being has ever been cheered by your sympathy?—or what weak and erring mortal has ever been strengthened in duty, or wakened to virtue by your influence?’ “I cannot describe how deeply I was shocked and pained at these impressive words. An emotion resembling terror seized me;—I was actually alarmed at the picture they abruptly presented to my view. “Louis continued: ‘Forgive me, Miss Marchmont, if I have trespassed beyond the limits of decorum. I speak the language of _truth_,—a language you are but little accustomed to hear; but my conscience and my heart have long reproached my silence.’