. Without any actual
explanation, I felt sure of Harry Morton's love. I never had any
doubts or jealousies--we seemed to perfectly understand each other. I
never looked forward to our future--I was too quietly happy in the
present. I only dated from one meeting to another--from the dinner to
the party, when he would be ready to hand us from our carriage, to
take me off my father's arm in compliance with my mother's constant
inquiry and request of, 'Where's Harry Morton? Here, Harry, do take
charge of Mary,' a request which he always seemed delighted to obey.
Then, after the happy good-night, I would lie my head on the pillow to
dream of him and the morning ride we would take together. Why he never
spoke to me of his love I cannot tell. It might have been that
feelings of delicacy restrained him; my father was rich, while he was
but a poor young lawyer; then report had made me an heiress in my own
right, as well as a belle, to my worldly mother's great content. That
he loved me I am sure, though he never told me with his lips.

"One morning my mother said to me, 'Do not make any engagement for
to-morrow, Mary; we must dine _en famille_ with dear old Mrs. Langley;
we have not been there for a month.'

"Now this Mrs. Langley was a person of great consideration in my
mother's eyes. She was very wealthy, and, moreover, had been at the
head of the fashionable world for many years. Since my entrance into
society, she had been quite an invalid, and rarely appeared in public,
but it gratified her exceedingly to have her friends around her, for
she dreaded yielding up her command in the world. My mother was an
especial favorite of hers; and after I had taken such a prominent
situation in society, she expressed great regard for me. Once in a
month or so we spent a day with her. She lived in great style--a
stately dinner, and a stupid, grand, heavy evening was the amount of
the visit. How I used to dread the coming of the day; it was the only
time I was separated from Harry, for Mrs. Langley being very
exclusive, and making no new acquaintances, he had no _entree_ there.
I used to sing for her, arrange her worsteds, tell her of the parties
and different entertainments, and read to her her son's last letter.
She had only one son, and he had been in Europe for two or three
years. He was her idol, and she never tired talking of him. Dear old
lady, my conscience smote me many times for the feelings of impatient
weariness and _ennui_