ugly, ill-natured, Ann Bear; and I had the consolation of knowing that such a woman had consoled him for my loss. Next came Charles Grant. I did like Charley; but after a while I heard that he said he would win me if possible, but if he could not get me, there was one he could have. So, on inquiry, I found that he had been paying very particular attentions to Miss May for a long time, and that they were said to be engaged. I told him what I had heard. He denied any affection for her, said he had given no occasion for such reports, either to her or others, and protested all manner of fine things to me. However, I did not credit his avowals, and dismissed him; and, lo! in three weeks he became the husband of Miss May. This affair also gave me much pain. Then there was Robert Austin; I did think that he would win me. I had a real regard for him, but one evening as we sat together, he playfully bade me kiss him. I refused. He insisted earnestly that I should do it. I told him seriously that I would never kiss any man except my husband. Instead of respecting this resolve, he became the more importunate. I still refused, and at length he told me, in a pet, that such stubbornness was a lovely sample of my disposition. I was hurt and offended—and so we parted. He huffed a long time; and when he thought that he had punished me sufficiently, he came and asked me, in the most smiling and affectionate manner, if I would not give him a right to that exclusive kiss. But I had seen too much of his tyrannical nature to put my neck into his yoke; so I was forced to endure his lamentations and reproaches. By this time I was branded _a coquette_. Now, Kate, was not that unjust? Should I have married Fred, disliking him as I did? If I had been as weak as many such young girls are, and sacrificed myself out of pity to him, should we not both have been inevitably miserable? And what would have shielded my heart in after years from that sympathy with a congenial mind, which, under such circumstances, might have led to guilt and ruin? When I permitted the attentions of Charles Grant, I did not know that I was allowing him to wrong one to whom his faith was plighted, if not by word, by the stronger language of actions. Yet if I had become his wife, the voice of the world would have laid the blame on me, and Ellen May would have cursed me as a traitor. I did sincerely purpose to become Mrs. Robert Austin, but he gave me a specimen of his temper too soon for his own peace; for it does seem that he is still unhappy. As for Harry, though the censors say I coqueted with him, I declare I am innocent. I never gave him any encouragement, unless it be so to treat a visiter at your father’s house with decent civility. What can a young lady do? Must she say to every gentleman that calls on her, don’t presume to fall in love with me, for I do not know as I shall like you on further acquaintance? The world is a fool on the subject of coquetry.