were willing to correspond with
him. Anna hesitated a moment or two before replying, and then
assented with a blushing cheek.

For some months before this, Miller had shown more than his usual
attentions to the sister of his friend; and these had been
sufficiently marked to attract Anna's notice. He was a man of
intelligence, fine attainments, honourable sentiments, and of good
personal appearance. To his attractions the maiden was by no means
insensible. But Westfield had a prior claim upon her heart--she
admired the former, but loved the latter unacknowledged to herself.

Immediately on his arrival at New Orleans, Westfield wrote to Anna,
but did not speak of the true nature of his feelings. The letter
touched upon all subjects but the one nearest to his heart. Anna
replied to it briefly, and with evident reserve. This threw such a
damper upon the young man, that he did not write again for nearly
two months, and then not with the warmth and freedom that had
distinguished his first letter.

Meantime, Miller grew more and more constant in his attentions to
Anna: To second these attentions, Philip W---- frequently alluded to
his friend in terms of admiration. Gradually Anna became interested
in the young man, and pleased whenever he made her a visit. When
Westfield asked the privilege of opening a correspondence with her,
she believed, from many corroborating circumstances, that he
designed formally addressing her, and that the correspondence would
lead to that result. But as his letters, with the lapse of time,
grew less and less frequent, and more constrained and formal, she
was led to form a different opinion. During all this time Miller's
attentions increased, and Anna's feelings became more and more
interested. Finally, an offer of marriage was made, and, after due
reflection accepted. Three days afterward Miss W---- received the
following letter:--

"NEW ORLEANS, June 8th, 18--.

"MY DEAR ANNA,

"A letter from an intimate and mutual friend prompts me at once to
open to you my whole heart. For many months--nay, for more than a
year--I have loved you with an ardour that has made your image ever
present with me, sleeping or waking. Often and often have I resolved
to declare this sentiment, but a foolish weakness has hitherto kept
me silent; and now the danger of losing you constrains me to speak
out as abruptly as freely. When I asked the privilege of opening a
correspondence with you, it was that I might,