dence of
Caroline was indeed utterly denied her and bestowed upon another. Yet
still Mrs. Hamilton fancied Caroline loved St. Eval; her eyes had not
yet been opened to the enormity of her daughter's conduct. Nor were they
till, after a long struggle of fervid love with the tremblings natural
to a fond but reserved and lowly heart, St. Eval summoned courage to
offer hand, heart, and fortune to the girl he loved (he might well be
pardoned for the belief that she loved him), and was rejected, coldly,
decidedly.

The young Earl had received the glad sanction of Mr. Hamilton to make
his proposals to his daughter. There had never been, nor was there now,
anything to damp his hopes. He was not, could not be deceived in the
belief that Caroline accepted, nay, demanded, encouraged his attention.
Invariably kind, almost fascinating in her manner, she had ever singled
him out from the midst of many much gayer and more attractive young men.
She had given him somewhat more to love each time they parted; and what
could this mean, but that she cared for him more than for others? Again
and again St. Eval pondered on the encouragement he could not doubt but
that he received; again and again demanded of himself if he were not
playing with her feelings thus to defer his proposals. Surely she loved
him. The sanction of her parents had heightened his hopes, and love and
confidence in the truth, the purity of his beloved one obtained so much
ascendancy over his heart, that when the important words were said, he
had almost ceased to fear. How bitter, how agonizing then must have been
his disappointment when he was refused--when sudden haughtiness beamed
on Caroline's noble brow, and coldness spread over every feature. And
yet, could he doubt it? No; triumph was glittering in her sparkling eye;
in vain he looked for sympathy in his disappointment, if love were
denied him. He gazed on her, and the truth suddenly flashed on his mind;
he marked the triumph with which she heard his offer; no softening
emotion was in her countenance. In vain he tried to ascribe its
expression to some other feeling; it was triumph, he could not be
deceived; and with agony St. Eval discovered that the being he had
almost worshipped was not the faultless creature he had believed her;
she had played with his feelings; she had encouraged him, heightened his
love, merely to afford herself amusement. The visions of hope, of fancy
were rudely dispelled, and perhaps at that