the heart of her betrothed—and knew it better than he did himself—and thus, perhaps, involuntarily, she afterwards acted on that knowledge. At all events, there was quite enough combustible material on hand for a single spark to ignite it and spread a conflagration. And the spark—and many sparks were not wanting. A thoughtless jest of Frank’s—a slight word dropped by Georgia at exactly the right, or rather the _wrong_ time and place—and the whole neighborhood of R—— County were agog with gossip. And Captain Clifton and his protégé, were the subjects. Some, right in the face of his well-known engagement to Miss Clifton, did not hesitate to say that she, his protégé, was a beautiful girl, whom he intended to educate and marry, and that his republican mother was highly in favor of the plan. Others told how tastefully the overseer’s house had been furnished and adorned, and—without the slightest foundation in truth—how many hours a day Captain Clifton now spent with his interesting pupil. The suspicious and malignant circulated a still darker tale, and wondered how long it would last, and how it would all end. And then they denounced Captain Clifton, blamed his mother, and pitied Miss Clifton! And all this time, while the whole county was ringing with various and contradictory reports, the persons most concerned knew nothing about it. Until the day before the wedding, it was suddenly brought to the knowledge of both parties, in the following manner:— The company assembled at Clifton, consisting of old Mr. Clifton’s brother-in-law and sister, Judge and Mrs. Cabell, of Richmond, with their three daughters and son, Frank Fairfax, Zuleime, and Captain Clifton, had gone over to dine by previous engagement with Mrs. Clifton, of Hardbargain. Carolyn Clifton had been compelled, by a slight headache, to remain at home. And Georgia had chosen to stay to keep her company. The two ladies sat in the dressing-room of Miss Clifton. Carolyn was silent and abstracted, yet her countenance betrayed more of inward joy than she suspected. A great contrast was her fair, placid face, to that of Georgia, dark, and traversed by spasms of pain-like clouds hurling past a stormy sky. But if Carolyn lifted her fair lashes a moment, instantly that dark face cleared, ere its expression could be detected. At length she ventured, in a sweet tone, to say— “Carolyn, my dear, to-morrow is your wedding-day. And—but—there is something which you ought to know beforehand, and which for weeks past I have been trying to gain courage to tell you.” “Well, madam?” asked Miss Clifton, slowly lifting her snowy lids. “I should—that is, I _might_ expose myself to the resentment of all your family by telling you.” “Then you had best not tell me, madam.” “And yet you ought to be informed, and must. _I_ should never forgive a friend for keeping such a secret from me.” A vague fear and tremor seized upon Carolyn Clifton, and kept her silent. The dark lady went on—