The color mounted to his face as he replied— "What of her, pray?" "You have not visited Mary for some time." "You are mistaken; I saw her to-night." "Though for the first time in several weeks. I saw Mary this evening also, and found her greatly distressed at your neglect and coldness." "She will complain of it no more." "Why?" quickly asked the sister. "Because she no longer has a right to complain." "Lawrence! What do you mean?" "I don't know, Mary, that I ever gave you authority to interrogate me in regard to my actions." "Though, by virtue of the love I bear you as your sister, I claim the right to do so in the present case." Mary spoke firmly. "It is no light thing, Lawrence," she continued, "to trifle with a young heart. Mary did not seek you. It was you that sought her; you that—" "Mary," said the young man, interrupting her, "though I deny your right to question me in regard to my conduct, I will explain to you, although I have little hope of making you hear reason. My love for Mary Lee was a mere boyish fancy. She was bright and beautiful to my inexperienced eyes; and, in a moment of weakness, I committed the folly of asking her hand in marriage. Our father was justly displeased at this; and no very long time passed before I saw clearly enough that I had done wrong, that a marriage with her would mar all my worldly prospects." "How?" inquired Mary. "To plod along in the humble sphere in which I was born is not my intention. I mean to rise in the world as high, if possible, as the highest. Already I can perceive the upward movement. When I marry, therefore, I must choose one who can aid in my elevation. Wealth, high connexions, superior education, and accomplishments, are indispensable. These Mary Lee cannot bring me, and, therefore, she can never become my wife. This is settled." "Have you not entered into a solemn contract? Is not your honor pledged?" Said Mary, in a deep, earnest voice. "No contract exists, no pledges remain. I am free." "And my brother has done this!" said Mary. "Lawrence, the day will come when, for this baseness—I can call it by no better name—when, for this baseness, you will repent. And this is your rising in the world! Oh! what a price to pay for elevation! Love, truth, honor, all trampled under foot. Faith broken—hearts crushed—hopes blighted. If this is the bud and blossom, what will be the fruit!" The young man was much disturbed. But, in his "upward movement," he had already begun to feel contempt for his humble, unaccomplished sisters, who had suffered wrong for his sake, and his spirit could ill brook a reproof from one of them.