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seen, with crayons in hand, the little cap-maker in his eye, as, seated on a little bench, she busily plies her needle, and sings for his entertainment, meanwhile, some rustic ballad. Sometimes, forgetting herself, she executes a brilliant _roulade_; and when Leland starts, astonished, and expresses his delight, she blushes deeply, and says she _once_ went to the theatre. And the old dame wonders what on earth they can find to talk about day after day, "a sittin' under trees," and tells Hetty to mind her work, and not take up any such silly ways. And the old man thinks a hale, hearty fellow like that, had better lend a hand to the plough, and not sit there spoiling so much white paper; and Hetty roguishly watches her young mistress, and smiles slily, and thinks there will be a wedding before long. Ah! happy, satisfied Leland! For he has won the heart of the charming little cap-maker. He, the poor, unpretending artist, he has won her away from the rich Esquire, who came rolling down in his carriage to woo her; and from the pale young doctor, who knelt tremblingly before her; and from the honest farmer, who swore he loved her better than his cattle. He, without fortune, without friends, has won her. She loves him, and through poverty and hardship will share his fate. And then, when bearing her off a happy bride, he thought how she would blush and tremble with surprise and sweet timidity when he should reveal his rank, and place her in that sphere she was born to grace--what rapturous visions danced through his brain! And no less rapturous were the thoughts of Ursula. She was now beloved, truly loved for herself alone--she, a poor, friendless girl. No money had shed its enticements around her--there was nothing to gain but an innocent heart, and a portionless hand; and yet the gifted, but poor artist, who might, by the rank of genius, have aspired to the favor of any high-born lady; he has chosen her to share his fate and fortunes. How her heart throbs, when she thinks of the wealth her hand will confer upon him--of the pride with which she shall see him adorning that station for which he is so eminently qualified. Ah! after all, what happiness to be an heiress! Three months flew by, and brings us to the night before the wedding. The lovers are alone, and, for lovers, extremely taciturn--for their thoughts are doubtless far into the bright future, o'er which no cloud is floating. The countenance of Ursula bea
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