xplicit as your own."

"Consequences!--may I ask, sir, to what consequences you allude?"

"The consequences, Miss Monson--that is, the consequences of a violated
troth, I mean--they may be divided into three parts--" here, Tom got
up, brushed his knees, each in succession, with his
pocket-handkerchief, and began to count on his fingers, like a lawyer
who is summing up an argument--"Yes, Miss Julia, into three parts.
First come the pangs of unrequited love; on these I propose to enlarge
presently. Next come the legal effects, always supposing that the
wronged party can summon heart enough to carry on a suit, with bruised
affections--" "hang it," thought Tom, "why did I not think of that word
'bruised' while on my knees; it would tell like a stiletto--" "Yes,
Miss Julia, if 'bruised affections' would permit the soul to descend to
such preliminaries. The last consequence is, the despair of hope
deferred."

"All this is so extraordinary, Mr. Thurston, that I insist on knowing
why you have presumed to address such language to me--yes, sir, INSIST
on knowing your reason."

Tom was dumbfounded. Now, that he was up, and looking about him, he had
an opportunity of perceiving that his mistress was offended, and that
he had somewhat overdone the sublime, poetical and affecting. With a
sudden revulsion of feeling and tactics, he determined to throw
himself, at once, into the penitent and candid.

"Ah, Miss Monson," he cried, somewhat more naturally--"I see I have
offended and alarmed you. But, impute it all to love. The strength of
my passion is such, that I became desperate, and was resolved to try
any expedient that I thought might lead to success."

"That might be pardoned, sir, were it not for the extraordinary
character of the expedient. Surely, you have never seen in me any taste
for the very extraordinary images and figures of speech you have used,
on this occasion."

"This handkerchief,"--said Tom, taking me from the sofa--"this
handkerchief must bear all the blame. But for this, I should not have
dreamt of running so much on the high-pressure principle; but love, you
know, Miss Julia, is a calculation, like any other great event of life,
and must be carried on consistently."

"And, pray, sir, how can that handkerchief have brought about any such
result?"

"Ah! Miss Monson, you ask me to use a most killing frankness! Had we
not better remain under the influence of the poetical star?"

"If you wish to ensure my