“_Love him?_ Ah, God!” “Dear lady, if he had returned from the frontier with the loss of an arm, a leg, or an eye—or with the hideous scar of a sword cut across cheek and brow, could _you_ have turned from him revolted?” “Oh, no, no, no! Oh! Heaven, no! I should have done all I could to convince him that he was beautiful to me still—that I loved him the deeper for his misfortunes!” “Then, dear lady, judge his noble heart by your own.” “Ah, but you said yourself, just now, when advising me not to write, that men feel so differently from women!” “Yes, but not in tenderness—not in constancy!” “There is the boy coming from the post-office, Catherine! It is strange—it is strange—but though I have been disappointed a hundred times, I still hope, and the coming of every mail makes my heart pause! Go, dear Catherine, and see what there is.” Kate rolled up her knitting, and dropped it into a little straw basket, and went below. “Only one letter, an’ the Pos’-Master say how it war for Miss Carolyn,” said the boy below stairs. A letter for her at last! Carolyn’s heart stopped almost to death, until Kate ran back up the stairs, entered the room, and placed the letter in her hands. “It is from Richmond,” she said, in a disappointed tone, as she opened it. “From my Aunt Cabell,” she added, and began to read it while Kate resumed her knitting. “I hope your friends are all well,” said Catherine. “Yes—” replied Miss Clifton; and then a smile of amusement flitted over her face—and still running her eye down the letter, she continued—“My Aunt Cabell writes me that my excellent step-dame, Mrs. Georgia Clifton, is now the reigning belle of Richmond—the most beautiful woman, the most charming musician, the most fascinating waltzer, and the most elegant equestrian in the city! She passes for a wealthy (!) young widow—and her credit is unlimited, and her debts and her extravagance, of course, unbounded. She occupies a whole suit of rooms in the most expensive hotel in the city, and entertains around her, both day and night, a host of adoring worshipers. She has cut her father—worthy man—dead! She is going to bring down a party of ladies and gentlemen to spend Christmas at her country-seat, (!) White Cliffs. Now what do you think of that, Catherine? Pray Heaven she may marry soon, and not wear our name long enough to scandalize it! Mrs. Cabell goes on to say, that Mrs. Georgia cannot long play that game—that Archer Clifton must soon return, and take possession of his property, when it will be arrested. Alas! she does not know that Captain Clifton is as much under the dominion of that dangerous woman as it is possible to be. He will probably be proud to leave Mrs. Clifton in possession here as long as she finds it convenient or agreeable to stay. Now, what do you think of all this, Catherine?”