med like the knell of long and fondly cherished hopes.

"What do you think of Margaretta Riston, Mary?" asked Thomas
Fielding of his sister, on the next evening after the visit just
mentioned.

"Why do you ask so seriously, brother?" the sister said, looking
into his face, with a smile playing about her lips.

"For a serious reason, sister. Can you guess what it is?"

"Perhaps so, and therefore I will not tax your modesty so far as to
make you confess it."

"Very well, Mary. And now answer my question. What do you think of
Margaretta?"

"I know nothing against her, brother."

"Nothing against her! Don't you know any thing in her favour?"

"Well, perhaps I do. She is said to be worth some fifty thousand
dollars."

"Nonsense, Mary! What do I care about her fifty thousand dollars?
Don't you know any thing else in her favour?"

"Why, yes, brother. As long as you seem so serious about the matter,
I think Margaretta a fine girl. She is amiable in disposition--is
well educated--tolerably good-looking, and, I think, ordinarily
intelligent."

"Ordinarily intelligent!"

"Yes. Certainly there is nothing extraordinary about her."

"No, of course not."

"Well, brother, what next?"

"Why, simply, Mary, I like Margaretta very much. The oftener I see
her, the more am I drawn towards her. To tell the plain, homely
truth, I love her."

"And don't care any thing about her fifty thousand dollars?"

"No Mary, I don't think I do. Indeed, if I know my own feelings, I
would rather she were not worth a dollar."

"And why so, Thomas?"

"Because, I fear the perverting influence of wealth on her mind. I
am afraid her position will give her false views of life. I wish to
marry for a _wife_--not for _money_. I can make money myself."

"Still, Thomas, Margaretta is, I think, an innocent-minded, good
girl. I do not see that she has been much warped by her position."

"So she seems to me, and I am glad that my sister's observation
corroborates my own. And now, Mary, do you think I have any thing to
hope?"

"Certainly, I do."

"But why do you think so?"

"Because Margaretta must have good sense enough to see that you are
a man of correct principles, and an affectionate disposition."

"Still, she may not see in me that which interests her sufficiently
to induce her to marry me."

"That is true. But I don't believe you have any thing to fear."

"I cannot help fearing, Mary, for the simple reason, that I find my
affect