s likely to heighten her
subsequent admiration. But it is not so easy to account for the sudden
interest the pretty governess created at first sight in the heart of her
hostess. Many girls as pretty and as intelligent looking as Miss Dalton
she had seen before, without their having inspired a spark of the
tenderness she felt towards this unknown stranger. She could not
comprehend it herself. She was not prone "to take fancies," as the
phrase is; and yet, whatever might be the case, certain it was that
there was a nameless something about this girl, which seemed to touch
one of the deepest chords of her nature, and to cause her heart to yearn
towards her with something like a mother's love. She felt that if Miss
Dalton were all that she had heard, and that if she should really prove
her son's choice, he should not be gainsaid by her.

The Christmas party at Woodthorpe Hall was generally a merry one; and
this year it was even merrier than usual. Fanny Dalton was the life of
the party; her disposition was naturally a lively one, and this hour of
sunshine in her clouded day called forth all its vivacity. But Fanny was
not only clever, lively, and amiable; her conduct and manners
occasionally displayed traits of spirit--nay, of pride; the latter,
however, of a generous rather than an egotistical description. Nothing
was so certain to call it forth as any tale of meanness or oppression.
One morning Miss Sharpe had been relating an anecdote of a gentleman in
the neighborhood who had jilted (odious word!) an amiable and highly
estimable young lady, to whom he had long been engaged, in order to
marry a wealthy and titled widow. There were many aggravating
circumstances attending the whole affair, which had contributed to
excite still more against the offender the indignation of all
right-thinking persons. The unfortunate young lady was reported to be
dying of a broken heart.

Fanny, who had been all along listening to the narration with an eager
and interested countenance, now exclaimed--"Dying of a broken heart!
Poor thing! But if I were she, _I_ would not break my heart--I would
scorn him as something far beneath me, poor and unimportant as I am. No,
I might break my heart for the loss of a true lover, but never for the
loss of a false one!" As Fanny's eyes shone, and her lip curled with a
lofty contempt, as her naturally clear, merry tones grew deeper and
stronger with the indignation she expressed, a mist seemed suddenly to