was; and if
Alice "put on airs," it must not be charged upon her biographer.

Time sped on. A rumor of an approaching marriage between Mr. Richard
Delany and Lady Hilden was industriously circulated, and became the
general topic of conversation in the neighborhood. To avoid hearing it
talked of, William Dulan sedulously kept out of company. He had never
seen Alice since she became Lady Hilden. Dr. Keene had removed with
his family from Bay Grove, and the principal government and emolument
of the school had devolved upon young Dulan. The Christmas holidays
were at hand, and he resolved to take advantage of the opportunity
offered by them, to remove his mother to Bay Grove. On the last
evening of his stay, something in the circumstance brought back
forcibly to his mind his last conversation with Alice--that
conversation had also taken place on the eve of a journey; and the
association of ideas awakened, together with the belief that he would
never again have an opportunity of beholding her, irresistibly
impelled him to seek an interview with Alice.

Twilight was fast fading into night. Lady Hilden stood alone, gazing
out from the window of her uncle's drawing-room. She had changed
again, since we saw her last. There was something of sorrow, or
bitterness, in the compressed or quivering lip. Her eye was bright as
ever, but it was the brightness of the icicle glancing in the winter
sun--it was soon quenched in tears, and as she gazed out upon the
gloomy mountain, naked forest, and frozen lake, she murmured: "I used
to love summer and day so much; now----" [A servant entered with
lights. "Take them away," said Alice. She was obeyed.]--"the dark soul
in the dark scene--there is almost repose in that harmony."

"Mr. Dulan," said the servant, reappearing at the door, and Mr.
William Dulan followed the announcement.

"You may bring in the light, now," said Alice.

"Will Lady Hilden accept congratulations, offered at so late a
period?" said William Dulan, with a respectful bow.

Alice, who had been startled out of her self-possession, replied only
by a bow.

"I was about to leave this neighborhood for a short time; but could
not do so without calling to bid you farewell, fearing you might be
gone to England before I return." William Dulan's voice was beginning
to quiver.

"I have no present intention of going to England."

"No? Such a report is rife in the neighborhood."

"One is not chargeable with the reports of th