and
neck were overspread with a deep and burning blush.

"Pardon you, my dear madam! Is it for uttering sentiments worthy of
the purest friendship and affection, and such only as I would expect to
proceed from your lips? But it is necessary to state, in my own defence,
that beloved mamma was aware of, and sanctioned our attachment. A
mystery there is, unquestionably, about my lover; but it is one with
which she was acquainted, for she told me so. It is not, however, upon
this mystery or that mystery--but upon the truth, honor, delicacy,
disinterestedness, of him to whom I have yielded my heart, that I speak.
In true, pure, and exalted love, my dear Mrs. Mainwaring, there is an
intuition of the heart which enables the soul to see into and comprehend
its object, with a completeness of success as certain and effectual as
the mission of an angel. When such love exists--and such only--all
is soon known--the spirit is satisfied; and, except those lessons of
happiness and delight that are before it, the heart, on that subject,
has nothing more to learn. This, then, is my reply; and as for the
mystery I speak of, every day is bringing us nearer and nearer to its
disclosure, and the knowledge of his worth."

Mrs. Mainwaring looked, on with wonder. Lucy's beauty seemed to
brighten, as it were with a divine light, as she uttered these glowing
words. In fact, she appeared to undergo a transfiguration from the
mortal state to the angelic, and exemplified, in her own person--now
radiant with the highest and holiest enthusiasm of love--all that divine
purity, all that noble pride and heroic devotedness of heart, by which
it is actuated and inspired. Her eyes, as she proceeded, filled with
tears, and on concluding, she threw herself, weeping, into her friend's
arms, exclaiming,

"Alas! my dear, dear Mrs. Mainwaring, I am not worthy of him."

Mrs. Mainwaring kissed, and cherished, and soothed her, and in a short
time she recovered herself, and resumed an aspect of her usual calm,
dignified, yet graceful beauty.

"Alas!" thought her friend, as she looked on her with mingled compassion
and admiration, "this love is either for happiness or death. I now see,
after all, that there is much of the father's character stamped into her
spirit, and that the same energy with which he pursues ambition actuates
his daughter in love. Each will have its object, or die."

"Well, my love," she exclaimed aloud, "I am sorry we permitted our
conversa