ollar for dollar--I wish his fancy had run toward
Julia."

"It has not, and we can only regret it. Adrienne has half-consented,
and I shall give her a handsome wedding--for, married she must be in
our house."

All came to pass as was predicted. One month from that day, Betts
Shoreham and Adrienne de la Rocheaimard became man and wife. Mrs.
Monson gave a handsome entertainment, and a day or two later, the
bridegroom and bride took possession of their proper home. Of course I
removed with the rest of the family, and, by these means, had an
opportunity of becoming a near spectator of a honey-moon. I ought,
however, to say, that Betts insisted on Julia's receiving $125 for me,
accepting from Julia a handsome wedding present of equal value, but in
another form. This was done simply that Adrienne might say when I was
exhibited, that she had worked me herself, and that the lace with which
I was embellished was an heir-loom. If there are various ways of
quieting one's conscience, in the way of marriage settlements, so are
there various modes of appeasing our sense of pride.

Pocket-handkerchiefs have their revolutions, as well as states. I was
now under my first restoration, and perfectly happy; but, being French,
I look forward to further changes, since the temperament that has twice
ejected the Bourbons from their thrones will scarce leave me in quiet
possession of mine forever.

{first restoration = the Bourbon dynasty was restored to the French
throne in 1815, after the fall of Napoleon, only to be deposed again in
1830}

Adrienne loves Betts more than any thing else. Still she loves me
dearly. Scarce a week passes that I am not in her hands; and it is when
her present happiness seems to be overflowing, that she is most fond of
recalling the painful hours she experienced in making me what I am.
Then her tears flow freely, and often I am held in her soft little
hand, while she prays for the soul of her grandmother, or offers up
praises for her own existing blessings. I am no longer thought of for
balls and routs, but appear to be doomed to the closet, and those
moments of tender confidence that so often occur between these lovers.
I complain not. So far from it, never was an "article" of my character
more highly favored; passing an existence, as it might be, in the very
bosom of truth and innocence. Once only have I seen an old
acquaintance, in the person of Clara Caverly, since my change of
mistress--the idea of call