“She has been, and is still ill, but I hope she is gradually becoming more resigned. Transplantation, however, will, I fear, go hard with her.” “Take care, Norman,” said Lucy, earnestly, “that you bring not severe repentance upon yourself by exposing her to it.” “But what can I do? I have no alternative. I have left no stone unturned to procure the money; and if a few months had been allowed me, I could easily have obtained it, but this is just the time when everybody’s money is locked up.” “Mr. Hinckley offered you an alternative,” said Lucy, timidly. “And is it possible that you can advise me to accept it, Lucy! Can you, who know what it is to love, offer me such advice?” “Who told you I knew how to love?” asked Lucy, in a tone of extreme alarm. “I scarcely know whether it is honorable in me to repeat what was told me in confidence, but I had it from Emma Shirley that you had accepted the addresses of Joseph Constant.” “Then she must have been trying the extent of your credulity,” returned the young girl, with a look of ingenuousness that could not for a moment be doubted, “for she knew very well that he was an object of actual dislike to me.” “And yet he has visited you for a long time both regularly and frequently,” said Horton, whilst his eyes began to sparkle, and the cloud that had for months overspread his fine countenance was rapidly dispersing. “He has come to the house both regularly and frequently, it is true, but never with my consent. Brother Henry, I scarcely know why, has undertaken to espouse his cause, and to bring him here. Though exceedingly annoyed at the circumstance, I could not bear to complain of it to papa, for fear of agitating him, and therefore satisfied myself with taking good care that my own sentiments were clearly understood.” “Lucy,” said Horton, taking her hand tenderly, whilst a soul full of happiness and affection beamed in his eyes, “as long as I believed your heart to be disengaged, I used to flatter myself with the hope of one day making it mine; and now that I find it is still at liberty, the same fond hope is again swelling in my bosom and urging me to renew my endeavors. Say, dearest Lucy, would the effort be altogether a hopeless one?” We cannot pretend to say what was Lucy’s reply, but we know the hand he had taken still remained in his possession, when an hour or two had elapsed and they began to think about the passage of time. Never once during that period had the thought of old Hinckley and his inveterate persecution entered their heads; or if for a moment the circumstance of having but little to commence life with obtruded itself on their recollection, it was met without fear or apprehension. They were both young, vigorous and active, and though they might have to work a little harder, their toil would be sweetened by the delightful idea that they mutually labored for each other.