. The
presiding queen of the feast, Madam Goldrich, apologized for the absence
of "poor Alia," by representing her indisposed; and at the announcement
of this dispiriting intelligence, disappointment marked the countenances
of the guests, for Alia was the brightest star that shone in that
brilliant galaxy of fashion.

Being the oldest among the children of Mr. Goldrich, Alia possessed all
that graceful and dignified superiority over those whom she regarded as
her younger sisters, which are the acknowledged privileges of age in
every well-regulated family, and which her superior talent seemed
naturally to enforce.

Years rolled on, and the dear child lived in blissful ignorance of her
origin and desolate condition, till the jealousy of her younger sisters
excited her suspicions, and she began to mistrust the genuineness, as
she felt the coldness, of that parental affection which the pretended
authors of her existence so long counterfeited. During many months, if
not years, these suspicions preyed on the poor girl's mind; and though
she never dared to mention them to any save old Judy, the negro woman,
she felt satisfied that her sisters and herself could not belong to the
same stock or the same race. The transparent delicacy of her complexion,
the rosy tint on her cheek, unrivalled by the costly paint of her
sisters, the shining blackness of her splendid hair,--all these
circumstances pointed her out and proclaimed her as of a different race
to those whom she hitherto regarded as her kindred. Long had she mused
on the cause of this disparity, and much had she suffered, in the depth
of her soul, from the representations and suggestions of her active
imagination in reference to her origin, and many were the tears shed by
her while oppressed with these doubts. But the events of this day, added
to the late insolent conduct of her sisters, which provoked the
reprimand of her peevish mother guardian, who told her to curb her
"Irish temper,"--these cleared up all her doubts; and, filled with a
melancholy joy at a revelation she owed to the jealousy and vanity of a
proud mother and her daughters, Alia retired to her room to give vent to
her feelings in sobs and tears.

"Thank God," she cried, "I know what I am, or ought to be. Thank God I
am Irish, too, for I often wished I belonged to that much-abused and
persecuted people. But O, where shall I find my parents? or how came my
lot to be cast in this proud palace, which, alas!