Mr. Claremont was scarcely able to leave his room, to which he was confined several weeks, ere Montague asked him, if he would bestow upon him his niece. "Yes, take her Montague," said Mr. Claremont,--"take her as the choicest treasure one man ever bestowed on another. I know no man but yourself, worthy of her hand and heart." An almost convulsive pressure of the hand, was the only sign of gratitude Montague could give. Well, who was at the wedding?--and when did it take place?--It took place in a few months, and a large company was assembled,--for Mr. Claremont hated a private wedding. The Black Prince was one of the guests. "Are they not a beautiful--a fine-looking couple, Mr. Gordon?" said Alice, after the _great cake_ was cut, and the congratulations were over. "O, yes"--said Gordon--"as fine pieces of statuary as one could wish to look upon! Montague, indeed, has _fire_ enough--the more fortunate for him, for a deal it must have taken to thaw the ice of your cousin!" "They are both a little singular," said Alice, "yet they love each other tenderly. How happy they will be! How sweet life _must be_, when congenial hearts are thus united forever!" "Yes,--perhaps so--but after all, sweet Alice, it is better to do, as you and I do--love each other, and still be free!--I would not link my fate with that of any woman in the world. I am quite sure, that I should hate even you, sweetest,--angel as you are, could you call me husband. O, there is something killing to all romance, in the very sound of that word!--Do you not agree with me, dearest?" Alice could not utter a syllable--but cast on him a heart-rending look of mingled disappointment, mortification and astonishment!--"False!--ungrateful! cruel!"--at length she murmured--and hastened to her chamber, at once to indulge and conceal the bitterness of her feelings. * * * * * "Alice is mourning herself to death, for that worthless, heartless Gordon," said Margarette to Montague, some time after their marriage. "She is doing what she has ever done," said Montague--"thinking only of herself, and cherishing feelings that are totally destructive of all that is valuable in character." "She has keen sensibility," said Margarette.