Williams soon became an open admirer of Miss Clayton. Gifted with talents, fortune, and a person of uncommon elegance, his mind well stored with literature, and his heart, though uninfluenced by solid piety, yet feelingly alive to many noble and brilliant virtues, he was formed to love with all the deep fervor of a virtuous soul, and formed to be beloved by one who could appreciate his character. No sooner did Williams declare himself the friend and equal of Miss Clayton, than the line of demarkation which had been drawn by the proud and rich gave way, and it soon became quite as fashionable to admire the gentle Matilda, as it had been to pay homage to her wealthier cotemporaries. Nor did Williams alone desert Miss Wilton’s ranks. Among her former suitors was a young man of dissipated character, but polished manners, who would, no doubt, have been a successful competitor for her hand, had not Williams appeared upon the stage. Between these two, no good feelings existed; and no sooner did Dudley discover his attachment to Matilda, than he determined to oppose him. For some months no event occurred worth recital. Rumor declared Williams the future husband of Matilda; while Dudley, tired of his new flame, again returned to flatter the beautiful Clara. It was evident that she was not happy, and also that the desertion of Williams was a source of real mortification; yet still her fondness for her rival continued, and she even seemed more devoted than ever to the society of her friend. Matilda loved her, and fondly imagined that she was likewise beloved. But the time for her marriage drew near. Clara possessed her confidence, and apparently enjoyed the approaching good fortune of her friend. At this juncture, business called Williams unexpectedly from the state. With a beating heart he bid adieu to his betrothed, promising to write every post, and extorting from her a like favor. One letter only was received from him, and that was cold and brief. Added to this, she was told that his departure was a finesse to avoid the fulfilment of his engagement—that he had spoken disrespectfully of her, and that she need not expect any farther tidings from him. But Matilda believed it not. She wrote. In a short time her letter was returned unopened. Still she could not believe him false. A month rolled by—a month of anguish, of suspense—but nothing farther was heard from him.