iting to Mrs. Oswald, Mary," she said; "you are perhaps
too young, and Mr. Oswald too much absorbed in his own disappointment,
to estimate the propriety of my conduct; but she will, I am sure, agree
with me, that one expensively reared as I have been, accustomed to every
luxury, and perfectly ignorant of economy, would make the worst possible
wife to a poor man; and she has so much influence over Mr. Oswald, that,
should she accord with me in opinion on this point, she can easily
convince him of its justice. Will you take my note to her? I do not like
to send it by a servant--it might fall into Philip's hands."

Nothing could have pleased Mary more than this commission, for her
affectionate heart was longing to offer its sympathy to her friends.
Mrs. Oswald assumed perhaps a little more than her usual stateliness
when she heard her announced, but it vanished instantly before Mary's
tearful eye, as she kissed the hand that was extended to her. Mrs.
Oswald folded her arms around her, and Mary sank sobbing upon the bosom
of her whom she had come to console. And Mrs. Oswald was consoled by
such true and tender sympathy. It was long before Mary could prevail on
herself to disturb the flow of gentler affections by delivering
Caroline's note. Mrs. Oswald received it with an almost contemptuous
smile, which remained unchanged while she read. It was a labored effort
to make her conduct seem a generous determination not to obstruct
Philip's course in life, by binding him to a companion so unsuitable to
his present prospects as herself. In reply, Mrs. Oswald assured Caroline
Danby of her perfect agreement with her in the conviction that she
would make a very unsuitable wife for Philip Oswald. "This," she added,
"was always my opinion, though I was unwilling to oppose my son's
wishes. I thank you for having convinced him I was right in the only
point on which we ever differed."

It cannot be supposed that this note was very pleasing to Caroline
Danby; but, whatever were her dissatisfaction, she did not complain, and
probably soon lost all remembrance of her chagrin in the gayeties which
a few men of fortune still remained, amidst the almost universal ruin,
to promote and to partake.

In the mean time, Philip Oswald was experiencing that restlessness, that
burning desire to free himself from all his present associations, to
begin, as it were, a new life, which the first pressure of sorrow so
often arouses in the ardent spirit. Had