Caroline, with no such
design, and in simply following the promptings of a pure heart and a
right taste, had won his affectionate regard.

It was some three or four months after the party at Mrs.
Walshingham's, that Melvina Fenton and Caroline Gay were alone in
the chamber of the latter, in close and interested conversation.

"I have expected as much," the former said, in answer to some
communication made to her by the latter.

"Then you are not surprised?"

"Not at all."

"And I hope not pained by the intelligence?"

"No, Caroline, not now," her friend said, smiling; "though two or
three months ago it would have almost killed me. I, too, have been
wooed and won."

"Indeed! That is news. And who is it, Melvina? I am eager to know."

"Martin Colburn."

"A gentleman, and every way worthy of your hand. But how in the
world comes it that so quiet and modest a young man as Martin has
now the dashing belle?"

"It has occurred quite naturally, Caroline. The dashing belle has
gained a little more good sense than she had a few months ago. She
has not forgotten the party at Mrs. Walshingham's. And by the bye,
Caroline, how completely you out-generalled me on that occasion. I
had a great mind for a while never to forgive you."

"You are altogether mistaken, Melvina," Caroline said, with a
serious air. "I did not act a part on that occasion. I went but in
my true character, and exhibited no other."

"It was nature, then, eclipsing art; truth of character outshining
the glitter of false assumption. But all that is past, and I am
wiser and better for it, I hope. You will be happy, I know, with
Henry Clarence, for he is worthy of you, and can appreciate your
real excellence; and I shall be happy, I trust, with the man of my
choice."

"No doubt of it, Melvina. And by the way," Caroline said, laughing,
"we shall make another 'sensation,' and then we must be content to
retire into peaceful domestic obscurity. You will have a brilliant
time, I suppose?"

"O yes. I must try my hand at creating one more sensation, the last
and most imposing; and, as my wedding comes the first, you must be
my bridesmaid. You will not refuse?"

"Not if we can agree as to how we are to dress. We ought to be alike
in this, and yet I can never consent to appear in any thing but what
is plain, and beautiful for its simplicity."

"You shall arrange all these. You beat me the last time in creating
a sensation, and now I will give up to your