nt and mental abilities
only he seeks, the most earnest qualities of the heart, and those
intenser susceptibilities of love which underlie his nature, and which
give a color in spite of him to the habit of his life? Why is he so
morbidly anxious to keep out of sight any extravagances of affection,
when he blurts officiously to the world his extravagances of action and
of thought? Can any lover explain me this?

Again, why is a sister the one of all others to whom you first whisper
the dawnings of any strong emotion,--as if it were a weakness that her
charity alone could cover?

However this may be, you have a long story for Nelly's ear. It is some
days after your return: you are strolling down a quiet, wooded lane,--a
remembered place,--when you first open to her your heart. Your talk is
of Laura Dalton. You describe her to Nelly with the extravagance of a
glowing hope. You picture those qualities that have attracted you most;
you dwell upon her beauty, her elegant figure, her grace of
conversation, her accomplishments. You make a study that feeds your
passion as you go on. You rise by the very glow of your speech into a
frenzy of feeling that she has never excited before. You are quite sure
that you would be wretched and miserable without her.

"Do you mean to marry her?" says Nelly.

It is a question that gives a swift bound to the blood of youth. It
involves the idea of possession, and of the dependence of the cherished
one upon your own arm and strength. But the admiration you entertain
seems almost too lofty for this; Nelly's question makes you diffident of
reply; and you lose yourself in a new story of those excellencies of
speech and of figure which have so charmed you.

Nelly's eye on a sudden becomes full of tears.

----"What is it, Nelly?"

"Our mother, Clarence."

The word and the thought dampen your ardor; the sweet watchfulness and
gentle kindness of that parent for an instant make a sad contrast with
the showy qualities you have been naming; and the spirit of that
mother--called up by Nelly's words--seems to hang over you with an
anxious love that subdues all your pride of passion.

But this passes; and now--half believing that Nelly's thoughts have run
over the same ground with yours--you turn special pleader for your
fancy. You argue for the beauty which you just now affirmed; you do your
utmost to win over Nelly to some burst of admiration. Yet there she
sits beside you, thoughtfully and half