ted to reward long years of silent devotion, by bestowing her hand
on the Marquis of Alford. They were married, and need we say that they
were happy? Lady Gertrude's love to her husband increased with each
passing year, and he, as time passed on, missed nothing of that bright
example of goodness, of piety, and virtue, which had led him to deserve
her love.

"Emmeline, dearest, put on your prettiest dress to-night, and confine
those flowing curls with some tasteful wreath," said Mr. Hamilton,
playfully addressing his daughter, about a week after the conversation
with her mother. The dressing-bell had sounded, and the various inmates
of Oakwood were obeying its summons as he spoke, and Caroline laughingly
asked her father how long he had taken such an interest in dress. "Does
your ladyship think I never do?" he replied, with mock gravity.

"Do you remember when my dear father's own hand wreathed a sprig of
scarlet geranium in my hair, some ten years ago, when I was a vain and
wilful girl?" replied the young Countess, without heeding his question,
and looking up with fond affection in his face. "Ah, papa, no flower,
even when formed of gems, ever gave me so much pleasure as that."

"Not even when placed within these glossy curls by St. Eval's hand? Are
you not jealous, Eugene?"

"Not in the least, my dear sir," replied the Earl, laughing. "I have
heard of that flower, and the good effects it produced."

"You have heard of it, have you? I should have fancied my Caroline had
long ere this forgotten it."

Lady St. Eval smiled reproachfully as she quitted the room, and Mr.
Hamilton, turning to Emmeline, took her hand fondly, and said, "Why does
my Emmeline look so grave? Does she not approve of her father taking an
interest in her dress? But it is not for me I wish you to look pretty
to-night, I will confess; for another, Emmeline, one whom I expect you
will, for my sake, do all in your power to please, and--and love. Do not
start, my child, the task will not be very difficult." He kissed her
cheek with a cheerful smile, and left her, motionless and pale, every
feature expressive of passive endurance, her hands clasped tightly on
her heart. Emmeline sat before her mirror, and permitted Fanny to
arrange her beautiful hair as she would; to her it mattered not. The
words of her father alone rung in her ears. That night sealed her fate.
Fanny spoke, for she was alarmed at her young lady's manner, but
Emmeline answered as if