seen, with crayons in hand, the little
cap-maker in his eye, as, seated on a little bench, she busily plies
her needle, and sings for his entertainment, meanwhile, some rustic
ballad. Sometimes, forgetting herself, she executes a brilliant
_roulade_; and when Leland starts, astonished, and expresses his
delight, she blushes deeply, and says she _once_ went to the theatre.

And the old dame wonders what on earth they can find to talk about day
after day, "a sittin' under trees," and tells Hetty to mind her work,
and not take up any such silly ways. And the old man thinks a hale,
hearty fellow like that, had better lend a hand to the plough, and not
sit there spoiling so much white paper; and Hetty roguishly watches
her young mistress, and smiles slily, and thinks there will be a
wedding before long.

Ah! happy, satisfied Leland!

For he has won the heart of the charming little cap-maker. He, the
poor, unpretending artist, he has won her away from the rich Esquire,
who came rolling down in his carriage to woo her; and from the pale
young doctor, who knelt tremblingly before her; and from the honest
farmer, who swore he loved her better than his cattle. He, without
fortune, without friends, has won her. She loves him, and through
poverty and hardship will share his fate. And then, when bearing her
off a happy bride, he thought how she would blush and tremble with
surprise and sweet timidity when he should reveal his rank, and place
her in that sphere she was born to grace--what rapturous visions
danced through his brain!

And no less rapturous were the thoughts of Ursula. She was now
beloved, truly loved for herself alone--she, a poor, friendless girl.
No money had shed its enticements around her--there was nothing to
gain but an innocent heart, and a portionless hand; and yet the
gifted, but poor artist, who might, by the rank of genius, have
aspired to the favor of any high-born lady; he has chosen her to share
his fate and fortunes. How her heart throbs, when she thinks of the
wealth her hand will confer upon him--of the pride with which she
shall see him adorning that station for which he is so eminently
qualified.

Ah! after all, what happiness to be an heiress!

Three months flew by, and brings us to the night before the wedding.
The lovers are alone, and, for lovers, extremely taciturn--for their
thoughts are doubtless far into the bright future, o'er which no cloud
is floating. The countenance of Ursula bea