nce the giddy whirl of
the waltz--the waving of feathers, the flashing of jewels, and the
flitting of airy forms through those magnificent apartments. A few
moments before she left the crowd, she had observed a stranger of very
dashing air attentively regarding her, and then joining a friend of
hers appeared to request an introduction. But young Allan was just
about to join the dance, and ere it was finished Ursula had stolen
away.

While engaged as before described, she observed the same gentleman
leaning on the arm of Allan strolling toward the conservatory.
Concealed by the shadow of a large orange-tree, they passed her
unobserved--they then paused in their walk, when Ursula suddenly heard
her own name mentioned, and then the following conversation
unavoidably fell on her ear:

"Why she squints, Allan!"

"Well, what of that--those that know her best never think of it."

"Pardon me, I consider it a very great defect, and slight as this
blemish appears in Miss Lovel, her money could never blind me to the
fact if I knew her ever so well."

"I do not mean to imply," answered Allan, "that being an heiress
renders the blemish imperceptible--no, it is her truly amiable
disposition, her goodness, and engaging manners which makes her so
beautiful to her friends."

"O, a pattern woman!" cried the other, "worse yet!"

"What do you mean by a pattern woman?"

"Why, one of those shockingly amiable, running round into dark alleys,
charity-dispensing beings--patting white-headed beggar boys, and
kissing dirt-begrimed babies--who speak in soft, lisping tones of duty
and benevolence--read the Bible to sick paupers, go to sewing meetings
and work on flannel--and--"

"There, that will do, Fifield," interrupted Allan, "making some
allowance, you have drawn Miss Lovel's character to the life. Shall I
introduce you?"

"O certainly, a cool hundred thousand outweighs all my objections
against pattern women--I could swallow a sermon every morning with the
best grace in the world, and even were she as ugly as Hecate, I could
worship at her feet, and wear the yoke for the sake of the golden
trappings!"

The young men now passed on, leaving poor Ursula wounded to the quick
by the heartless remarks of the fortune-hunter. She did not join the
gay assembly again, but requesting a servant to call her carriage,
immediately returned home. Now can you wonder at the cloud on her
brow?

But see, even while we are looking at her, it is c