“This from _you_ mother!” exclaimed Archer Clifton, reproachfully. “I thought you knew me better. You _do_ know me better! But I must have some hand in this girl’s good fortune.” Mrs. Clifton, who was walking about the room, quietly setting things in order for the night, made no reply, but only smiled. And soon after she lighted a night lamp, and placing it in the hand of her son, bade him good-night, and retired to her chamber. Captain Clifton remained pacing up and down the room, in troubled thought, some time after she had left, before seeking his own couch. CHAPTER VIII. LOST AFFECTION. “Oh! cast not thou Affection from thee! In this bitter world Hold to thy heart that only treasure fast; Watch—guard it—suffer not a breath to dim That bright gem’s purity.”—MRS. HEMANS. Morning came at length. Carolyn Clifton arose unrefreshed, weak, dizzy and sick. This was the first night’s rest she had ever lost in her life. And on looking in the glass—habitually the first thing the beauty ever did after rising—she was shocked to see what havoc one night’s evil passions had made in her appearance. What a fright she had become! How pale her cheeks, how dragged the muscles, how red, dim, and sunken her eyes! And this upon her wedding-day—and when she had a quarrel to make up with her intended husband, too! When, in fine, every circumstance pressingly demanded that she should appear in the highest beauty. Would Archer Clifton—would that fastidious, artistic worshiper of the beautiful—feel inclined to a reconciliation with such a spectre as herself, she mentally inquired, as she gazed wonderingly, deploringly, upon her haggard face? Carolyn was vain and proud and scornful—so vain and proud and scornful that she did not know—could not imagine that that very haggard face—haggard with sorrow for the estrangement and the separation, would be a stronger appeal, make a deeper impression upon the heart of her lover, than all the glory of her beauty had ever done. And thus vanity, pride and scorn punish their subject, not only by depriving her of very much respect and affection she would otherwise have, but by making her insensible of that love and esteem that really does surround her. Carolyn at length rang for her woman. And after some little delay she came in, evidently just aroused up out of her sleep, and wondering that her young mistress should summon her before sunrise. But as soon as she saw her lady, her wonder gave way to alarm, and she exclaimed— “My good gracious alive, Miss Carolyn! What’s der matter, honey?” “Has——_any one_ arrived this morning, Aunt Darky?” inquired Miss Clifton, without noticing the old woman’s alarm.