ings in the State of New York, and there met
Mr. Awtry, who was then a handsome and dashing young man. Struck by
her beauty, and various accomplishments, he lost no time in making her
acquaintance, and before her departure from the Springs, offered her
his hand. To his utter astonishment, the proposal was rejected, with
the statement that she was already engaged to a gentleman of New
Orleans. This refusal would have satisfied any other person, but
Horace Awtry was not a man to yield so easily; he, therefore, followed
her to New Orleans on her return, and endeavored, by every means in
his power, to supplant Alfred Wentworth in the affections of Eva
Seymour--Mrs. Wentworth's maiden name--and in the confidence of her
father. Failing in this, and having the mortification of seeing them
married, he set to work and succeeded in ruining Mr. Seymour in
business, which accounts for the moderate circumstances in which we
find Mrs. Wentworth and her husband at the commencement of this book.
Worn out by his failure in business and loss of fortune, Mr. Seymour
died shortly after his daughter's marriage, without knowing who caused
his misfortunes, and Horace Awtry returned to the North. After being
absent for several years, he came back to New Orleans some months
before the departure of Mrs. Wentworth's husband, but never called
upon her until after he had left, when she was surprised at the visit
narrated in the foregoing chapter.

This gentleman was seated in the portico of the St. Charles Hotel a
few mornings after his visit to Mrs. Wentworth, and by his movements
of impatience was evidently awaiting the arrival of some one. At last
a young man ran down the steps leading from the apartments, and he
rose hurriedly to meet him.

"You are the very man I have been waiting to see," said Horace Awtry;
"you must excuse my apparent neglect in not calling on you before."

"Certainly, my dear fellow," replied the gentleman. "I am certain your
reasons are good for not attending to your arrangement punctually--by
the way," he continued, "who the deuce was that lady I saw you
escorting to church last Sunday?"

"An acquaintance of mine that I had not seen for years, until a few
days ago chance threw me in her path and I paid her a visit."

"Ha, ha, ha," laughed his companion. "I understand; but who is she,
and her name? She is very pretty," he continued, gravely.

"Hush, Charlie!" replied Horace; "come to my room in the St. Louis
Hotel,