nquired for you. You never fancied yourself in love with
her?"

"No. Why that question?"

"She was under the impression that we were engaged, and seemed quite
relieved when I informed her that she was mistaken."

"What has become of Mary Carver?"

"She is married, and lives in that house," pointing to a miserable hut
near at hand.

"Is it possible?"

"Her husband is intemperate. It was a clandestine marriage--a love
match, you know."

"Was her husband intemperate when she married him?"

"Not habitually so. He was so very romantic and devoted to her; so
that, I suppose, she thought she could reform him."

"What has become of Mr. Ralston, your old friend?" admirer, he would
have said, but he deemed it unwise.

"He is a lawyer here, in a small way. I believe they think of sending
him to Congress."

"Is he married?"

"No."

"I thought he seemed to be attached to you; at least I hoped that he
would become my cousin."

"I will answer your questions in regard to others--my own affairs do
not require remark."

This rebuke, so unlike any thing he had ever received from his cousin,
led him to fix his gaze upon her countenance, as if to make sure of
her identity. There could be no mistake. There was the same brilliant
eye, the same faultless features on which he had gazed in former
years. A conciliating smile led him to resume his inquiries.

"Is Eliza Austin married?" His voice, as he asked this question, was
far from natural, perhaps in consequence of the agitation which the
rebuke just spoken of had occasioned.

"No; she lives somewhere in the village, I don't know exactly where."

"Do you ever see her?"

"Yes; she lives with her aunt, who sometimes washes for us, so that I
see her niece occasionally."

"Why does she live with her aunt?"

"Her mother died soon after you went away."

"Eliza still lives in the village, then?" To this very unnecessary
question his cousin bowed in reply. Few words more passed between them
during the remainder of their walk.

"You do not stay out as late as you used to do," said Mrs. Earl, as
they entered the parlor.

"We are no longer children," said Emily. Mason could scarcely repress
an audible sigh, as those words fell from her lips. At an early hour,
he repaired to his chamber.

CHAPTER II.

George Mason was left an orphan in his early youth. He then became a
member of his uncle's family, and the constant companion of his cousin
Emily. He desired no socie