on of a deliberate villain."

Paul glanced his eye over the document, which was an original letter
signed, 'David Bright,' and addressed to 'Mrs. Jane Dowse,' It was
written with exceeding art, made many professions of friendship,
spoke of the writer's knowledge of the woman's friends in England,
and of her first husband in particular, and freely professed the
writer's desire to serve her, while it also contained several
ambiguous allusions to certain means of doing so, which should be
revealed whenever the person to whom the letter was addressed should
discover a willingness to embark in the undertaking. This letter was
dated Philadelphia, was addressed to one in New-York, and it was old.

"This is, indeed, a rare specimen of villany," said Paul, as he laid
down the paper, "and has been written in some such spirit as that
employed by the devil when he tempted our common mother. I think I
never read a better specimen of low, wily, cunning."

"And, judging by all that we already know, it would seem to have
succeeded. In this letter you will find the gentleman a little more
explicit; and but a little; though he is evidently encouraged by the
interest and curiosity betrayed by the woman in this copy of the
answer to his first epistle."

Paul read the letter just named, and then he laid it down to wait for
the next, which was still in the hands of his companion.

"This is likely to prove a history of unlawful love, and of its
miserable consequences," said John Effingham in his cool manner, as
he handed the answers to letter No. 1, and letter No. 2, to Paul.
"The world is full of such unfortunate adventures, and I should think
the parties English, by a hint or two you will find in this very
honest and conscientious communication. Strongly artificial, social
and political distinctions render expedients of this nature more
frequent, perhaps, in Great Britain, than in any other country. Youth
is the season of the passions, and many a man in the thoughtlessness
of that period lays the foundation of bitter regret in after life."

As John Effingham raised his eyes, in the act of extending his hand
towards his companion, he perceived that the fresh ruddy hue of his
embrowned cheek deepened, until the colour diffused itself over the
whole of his fine brow. At first an unpleasant suspicion flashed on
John Effingham, and he admitted it with regret, for Eve and her
future happiness had got to be closely associated, in his mind, w