epress them. He doubted whether Melissa was not already
engaged to Beauman. His hopes would persuade him that this was not the
case; but his fears declared otherwise.

* * * * *

It was some time before Alonzo renewed his visit. In the interim he
received a letter from a friend in the neighbourhood of Melissa's
father; an extract from which follows:

"We are soon to have a wedding here; you are acquainted with the
parties--Melissa D---- and Beauman. Such at least is our opinion from
appearances, as Beauman is now here more than half his time.--You will
undoubtedly be a guest. We had expected that you would have put in your
claims, from your particular attention to the lady. She is a fine girl,
Alonzo."

"I shall never be a guest at Melissa's wedding," said Alonzo, as he
hastily paced the room; "but I must once again see her before that event
takes place, when I lose her forever." The next day he repaired to her
father's. He enquired for Melissa; she was gone with a party to the
shores of the sound, attended by Beauman. At evening they returned.
Beauman and Alonzo addressed each other with much seeming cordiality.
"You have deceived us, Alonzo, said Melissa. We concluded you had
forgotten the road to this place."

"Was not that a hasty conclusion?" replied Alonzo. "I think not, she
answered, if your long absence should be construed into neglect. But we
will hear your excuse said she, smiling, by and by, and perhaps pardon
you." He thanked her for her condescension.

The next morning Beauman set out for New-London. Alonzo observed that he
took a tender leave of Melissa, telling her, in a low voice, that he
should have the happiness of seeing her again within two or three weeks.
After he was gone, as Melissa and Alonzo were sitting in a room alone,
"Well, said she, am I to hear your excuses?"

Alonzo. For what, madam?

Mel. For neglecting your friends.

Alonzo. I hope it is not so considered, madam.

Mel. Seriously, then, why have you stayed away so long? Has this place
no charms in the absence of my brother?

Al. Would my presence have added to your felicities, Melissa?

Mel. You never came an unwelcome visiter here.

Al. Perhaps I might be sometimes intrusive.

Mel. What times?

Al. When Beauman is your guest.

Mel. I have supposed you were on friendly terms.

Al. We are.

Mel. Why then intrusive?

Al. There are seasons when friendship must yield its pretensions to