haracters as hers can be appreciated:
there the tinsel too often glitters more brightly than the pure gold;
but in the calm and peaceful intercourse of domestic life, their pure
and gentle influence is felt and valued. I was becoming daily more and
more an admirer of the gentle Emmeline, when the sudden death of my
father awakened me from my dream of love, and startled me into serious
consideration. He died as he had lived--poor; for it was found, on
examining his affairs, that, though maintaining an appearance of
wealth and comfort, his life must have been a constant struggle with
difficulties; and there was barely sufficient left behind to satisfy
the claims of his creditors. Deeply as I was grieved by his loss, I
must say that feeling was not a little heightened by the
disappointment of finding myself unprovided for. I had always been led
to hope, that, though my father, from a wish to give me a spirit of
independence, had left me, during my early life, to the exertions of
my own energies for support, yet that at his death, he would leave me
a handsome competency. But this hope was now disappointed, and with it
vanished my bright dreams of Emmeline and happiness. I could not bear
the thoughts of exposing the woman of my heart to the risk of poverty
and privation. She knew not of my love, and now she must remain for
ever in ignorance of it; for what had I to offer her?--a heart, and
nothing more; and you know, Musgrave, that though _loving_ hearts are
very pretty things in _poetry_, _smoking_ ones would better furnish
forth a poor man's table. I gradually withdrew myself from the society
of my good old friend, though it cost me many a severe pang to do so;
and whenever I did meet him, I had always some faltering excuse to
make about press of business, ill health, or bad weather. I was
talking to him one day, when Emmeline, whom I had not seen for some
time, unexpectedly joined us. The conscious blood rushed to my face
immediately, and I stammered out some incoherent apology in reply to
her expression of surprise at my long absence. The old man noticed my
embarrassment, and became silent and thoughtful. At last, turning to
his daughter, he said, "Emmeline, my love, see what we are to have
for dinner; Mr. Lorimer will take family fare with us. Not a word,
youngster" (to me, as I was beginning to remonstrate), "I am
commanding officer here." We walked on together for some time in
silence; at last he stopped, and taking my