be reprobate
enough to make fun of this pretty old fancy, which well beseems an old
maiden's creed. At the same time I don't quite gather why the aunt had
her portrait taken as a bride forty years ago.'

"'As the tale was told to me,' said Alexander, 'my aunt was engaged to
be married at one time--indeed the wedding-day had arrived, and she was
dressed and waiting for the bridegroom; but he never made his
appearance, having thought proper to leave the place that morning with
a "flame" of his of earlier date. My aunt took this deeply to heart,
and, without being exactly queer in the head, always kept the
anniversary of that marriage-day of hers, that was to have been,
in a curious way. Early in the morning of it she used to put on her
wedding-dress complete, and (as she had done on the day itself) lay out
a little table of walnut-wood with gilt carvings in her dressing-room,
with chocolate, wine, and cake for two people, and then walk slowly up
and down, sighing and softly lamenting, till ten at night, when, after
she had prayed fervently, Mistress Anne would undress her, and she
would go silently to bed, sunk in deep reflection.'

"'I call that exceedingly touching,' said Marzell. 'Woe to the traitor
who caused the poor creature that never-forgotten pain!'

"'But there may be another side to the question,' said Alexander: 'the
man whom you accuse of perfidy--and who was a traitor, no doubt,
whatever may have been his motives--may have had a warning from his
good genius; or, if you prefer to say so, a better feeling may have
come to him. Perhaps it was her money that was the attraction; he may
have found out that she was imperious, quarrelsome, miserly--in short,
a disagreeable person to have much to do with.'

"'Perhaps,' said Severin, laying his pipe on the table, and looking
reflectively before him with his arms crossed; 'but could those silent,
affecting funereal observances--those resigned regrets, heard only
in her own heart, for the unfaithful scoundrel--have existed in any
but a deep and tender nature, which must have been a stranger to the
worldly infirmities which you accuse your aunt of? No doubt the bitter
feeling--(how seldom can we altogether master it, hard beset as we are
in this life of ours?)--may sometimes have manifested itself in her in
various forms, not always very easily recognizable, and having a more or
less unpleasant effect upon the old lady's surroundings; still, that
yearly day of pious