e than he receives,
in his intercourse with Europeans."

The smiles of the more experienced of this young man's listeners were
well-bred and concealed, and the conversation turned to other
subjects. It was easy to raise the laugh on such an occasion, and
contrary to the usage of the Wigwam, where the men usually left the
table with the other sex, Captain Truck, John Effingham, Mr.
Bloomfield, and Mr. Howel, made what is called a night of it. Much
delicious claret was consumed, and the honest captain was permitted
to enjoy his cigar. About midnight he swore he had half a mind to
write a letter to Mrs. Hawker, with an offer of his hand; as for his
heart, that she well knew she had possessed for a long time.

The next day, about the hour when the house was tranquil, from the
circumstance that most of its inmates were abroad on their several
avocations of boating, riding, shopping, or walking, Eve was in the
library, her father having left it, a few minutes before, to mount
his horse. She was seated at a table, writing a letter to an aged
relative of her own sex, to communicate the circumstance of her
marriage. The door was half open, and Paul appeared at it
unexpectedly, coming in search of his young bride. His step had been
so light, and so intently was our heroine engaged with her letter,
that his approach was unnoticed, though it had now been a long time
that the ear of Eve had learned to know his tread, and her heart to
beat at its welcome sound. Perhaps a beautiful woman is never so
winningly lovely as when, in her neat morning attire, she seems fresh
and sweet as the new-born day. Eve had paid a little more attention
to her toilette than usual even, admitting just enough of a properly
selected jewelry, a style of ornament, that so singularly denotes the
refinement of a gentlewoman, when used understandingly, and which so
infallibly betrays vulgarity under other circumstances, while her
attire had rather more than its customary finish, though it was
impossible not to perceive, at a glance, that she was in an undress.
The Parisian skill of Annette, on which Mr. Bragg based so many of
his hopes of future fortune, had cut and fitted the robe to her
faultlessly beautiful person, with a tact, or it might be truer to
say a contact, so perfect, that it even left more charms to be
imagined than it displayed, though the outline of the whole figure
was that of the most lovely womanhood. But, notwithstanding the
exquisite mod