uation as Philip's. Yet Hope had appealed to him so simply, had
trusted him so nobly! Suppose that, by any self-control, or wisdom, or
unexpected aid of Heaven, he could serve both her and Emilia, was it not
his duty? What if it should prove that he was right in loving them
both, and had only erred when he cursed himself for tampering with their
destinies? Perhaps, after all, the Divine Love had been guiding him, and
at some appointed signal all these complications were to be cleared, and
he and his various loves were somehow to be ingeniously provided for,
and all be made happy ever after.

He really grew quite tender and devout over these meditations. Phil was
not a conceited fellow, by any means, but he had been so often told by
women that their love for him had been a blessing to their souls, that
he quite acquiesced in being a providential agent in that particular
direction. Considered as a form of self-sacrifice, it was not without
its pleasures.

Malbone drove that afternoon to Mrs. Ingleside's charming abode, whither
a few ladies were wont to resort, and a great many gentlemen. He timed
his call between the hours of dining and driving, and made sure that
Emilia had not yet emerged. Two or three equipages beside his own were
in waiting at the gate, and gay voices resounded from the house. A
servant received him at the door, and taking him for a tardy guest,
ushered him at once into the dining-room. He was indifferent to this,
for he had been too often sought as a guest by Mrs. Ingleside to stand
on any ceremony beneath her roof.

That fair hostess, in all the beauty of her shoulders, rose to greet
him, from a table where six or eight guests yet lingered over flowers
and wine. The gentlemen were smoking, and some of the ladies were trying
to look at ease with cigarettes. Malbone knew the whole company,
and greeted them with his accustomed ease. He would not have been
embarrassed if they had been the Forty Thieves. Some of them, indeed,
were not so far removed from that fabled band, only it was their
fortunes, instead of themselves, that lay in the jars of oil.

"You find us all here," said Mrs. Ingleside, sweetly. "We will wait till
the gentlemen finish their cigars, before driving."

"Count me in, please," said Blanche, in her usual vein of frankness.
"Unless mamma wishes me to conclude my weed on the Avenue. It would be
fun, though. Fancy the dismay of the Frenchmen and the dowagers!"

"And old Lambert," s