For he has won the heart of the charming little cap-maker. He, the poor, unpretending artist, he has won her away from the rich Esquire, who came rolling down in his carriage to woo her; and from the pale young doctor, who knelt tremblingly before her; and from the honest farmer, who swore he loved her better than his cattle. He, without fortune, without friends, has won her. She loves him, and through poverty and hardship will share his fate. And then, when bearing her off a happy bride, he thought how she would blush and tremble with surprise and sweet timidity when he should reveal his rank, and place her in that sphere she was born to grace--what rapturous visions danced through his brain! And no less rapturous were the thoughts of Ursula. She was now beloved, truly loved for herself alone--she, a poor, friendless girl. No money had shed its enticements around her--there was nothing to gain but an innocent heart, and a portionless hand; and yet the gifted, but poor artist, who might, by the rank of genius, have aspired to the favor of any high-born lady; he has chosen her to share his fate and fortunes. How her heart throbs, when she thinks of the wealth her hand will confer upon him--of the pride with which she shall see him adorning that station for which he is so eminently qualified. Ah! after all, what happiness to be an heiress! Three months flew by, and brings us to the night before the wedding. The lovers are alone, and, for lovers, extremely taciturn--for their thoughts are doubtless far into the bright future, o'er which no cloud is floating. The countenance of Ursula beams with happiness, yet her manner is somewhat abstracted--she is evidently agitated. At length Leland speaks, "Dearest Ursula, it seems to me that no wealth could contribute to our happiness; we have youth, health, strength, and loving hearts to bear us on our life-journey, as hand-in-hand we meet its pains and pleasures. Ah! I can already fancy our pleasant fireside. No one's caps will find so ready a sale as yours, dear Ursula; and my pencil, too, will be inspired to greater effort by your praise." And Leland turned aside to conceal the smile which played round his mouth at the deception he was practicing. "But what is the matter, Ursula--what agitates you thus; you surely do not repent your promise, beloved one!" "O, no, no, dear Frank! but I have something to tell you, which, perhaps, may forfeit me your love." "Good heavens, Ursula! what mean you! tears, too--speak, speak, what is it! is not your heart mine, or have you loved another more truly!" "No! O, no! and yet, Frank, I am not what I seem--I have deceived you. You think me but a poor, friendless girl, dependent upon my needle for my maintenance, when, in fact, O, Frank, how shall I say it, I am-- "Speak, dearest!" "I am an heiress." Frank sprang to his feet in amazement.