Again Mr. Richard exerted his varied powers to fascinate and amuse me. Again I listened, and struggled, as formerly, against his wiles, and finally bent a too willing ear to his soft words of praise and admiration. With secret pleasure I reveled in his ardent language, hugging to my heart the belief that I was loved. How that summer sped by on its golden wings! Time passed on, as in some delicious opium dream! And when the short clays and long nights of the Christmas holidays set in, I found myself secretly engaged in marriage to Richard Bristed. Of our plans and attachment his brother was not at present to be informed: this stern brother who shut himself up apart from his species, and who, Richard told me, was of too cold a nature to sympathize with love. “He will dismiss you, Agnes, if he hears of it,” he said. “Wait till I have settled up my affairs, and then he can do his worst.” I believed this statement; I forgot all my former good impressions of Mr. Bristed, and listened to the tales that were told me of how he had wronged Richard. I learned to regard him as a robber, a hypocrite whose statements could not be relied on; a false, dark, bad man. As for Richard, he seemed a king in comparison; a noble, magnanimous being, whom some kind fairy had bestowed upon me. But that cold, relentless Fate, which comes to tear off the painted wrappings of life, revealing the bare and ugly reality beneath, was fast pursuing me. At the close of a cold, snowy day, I had retired early to my room, and having locked the door that I might be free from interruption, sat down to look over the dainty articles of dress which I had been shyly accumulating for my approaching marriage. It was but a scanty outfit, but to me it appeared munificent as that of a princess. I could never weary of looking at these beautiful garments; I placed them in one light, and then in another; I folded and unfolded them, and finally ended by trying them on, and admiring in the mirror their perfect adaptation to my face and figure. A long time must have passed in this way, when the hall clock struck the hour of midnight. Astonished at the lateness of the night, I threw down the laces and ribbons which I was combining into some airy article of dress, and was preparing to remove my bridal attire, when I was amazed to hear a key turning in the lock of my door. Fear and surprise nailed me to the floor. The door glided softly open and in stepped Mr. Richard Bristed! He seemed surprised to see me thus. “What! up and dressed?” he exclaimed, in a loud whisper. “O my beauty! my wife! I have come to claim you to-night. You shall be mine. No power on earth shall withhold us now!” “How strangely you talk, Richard,” said I. “You forget it is so late. We cannot go to church at this hour.” “Ah, dearest, this is church! See, I have brought you this ring. We will stand up before God and our own hearts, and I will marry you here. We need no other witnesses than ourselves and this ring!”