s, whose
treasures were those of a contented spirit--whose gayety proceeded from an
innocent heart and untroubled conscience. Strange that he should have been
so blinded to her beauties, and so unmindful of the other's defects; but
so it had been. Mordant sympathized with the young man as he watched him
running headlong toward his own misery; but the scene continued before
him--he had no power to prevent it--and now the last stake is to be played.
On that throw of the dice rests the ruin of the small property he has
inherited from his father. It is lost! and he beggared of the little he
could call his own; and forth from the hell (in which he has been passing
the night) rushes into the street. It wants but one stroke to complete the
wreck of heart as well as of fortune, and that stroke is not long in
coming.

Miserable, he returned to his lodgings, and alone he thought of his
position. He thought of Edith. "Love in a cottage, even could I by my own
means regain what I have lost. Pshaw! the thing is ridiculous. Without
money there can not be Happiness for her or for me." A few months had
sadly changed _him_, who before saw it only in her society. But now the
Goddess of his fancy stands before him--her golden curls of the precious
metal he covets--her eyes receiving their brightness from its lustre, and
in his heart a new feeling asserts superiority, and he wishes to be rich.
With money to meet every want he will command her presence--not sue for it;
and Mordant remembered how, in pursuance of this ambition, gradually
cooling toward her, he had at last broken off his engagement with
Edith--how for some years, day and night had seen him toiling at his
profession, ever with the same object in view, and how at last he had
married a woman in every way what he desired: rich in gold and lands and
worldly possessions, but poor in heart compared with Edith.

The crowd jostle each other to get a nearer view of the bride as she
passes (leaning on her father's arm) from the carriage to the church-door.
The bridegroom is waiting for her, and now joins her, and they kneel side
by side at the altar. Mordant remembers his wedding-day. He is not happy,
notwithstanding the feeling of gratified pride he experiences as he places
the ring upon the fair hand of the Lady Blanche. No emotion of a very deep
kind tinges her cheek; she is calm and cold throughout the ceremony. She
admires Mordant Lindsay very much; he was of a good family, so was