anners was scarcely less gratified by the
mystery having been at length cleared up, and the public mind disabused.
From her first interview with Jones, she had entertained a strong
impression of his innocence; and the fact of her good opinion of
him being confirmed, she regarded with feelings almost of triumph.
Accordingly, their meetings were mutually delightful. If, at any
time, the latter doubted the propriety of encouraging his visits, the
reflection that she had done right, in the first instance, in following
the dictates of her heart, caused her to continue in the same course.
The truth is, she pitied Jones; and pity, it is well known, is akin to a
still tenderer emotion.

Two or three weeks after the scene we have described, there was a small
evening party at the manse. It was given in honour of Mr. and Mrs.
Green, who had just been a few days married. The young couple were
ushered into the drawing-room in gay attire, and with their faces
wreathed into still gayer smiles; and, in the fair bride, Jones, who
was, of course, present, recognized the lady who had, on one occasion,
betrayed so much alarm on his doing her a trifling act of kindness. The
affair, in the absence of more important topic of conversation, was
talked and laughed over; and the bride acknowledged herself to have
been a very silly girl. All the company were soon in high spirits, and
the merriment was kept up till it was near midnight. On separating, the
company could not help expressing their admiration of the serenity of
the night. It was a clear, lovely moonlight; and the exquisite stillness
and beauty of the scene caused some of the younger individuals of the
party to regret that they had spent so much time within doors. When they
reached the gate, Miss Manners, who had accompanied them through the
garden, bade them "good night." "Good night," said they, and parted; but
Jones, who was the last to shake hands with her, could not part. He
lingered, pressed her hand, wished her "good night," and still lingered.

"I must escort you a little way back," he at length said; and,
accordingly, the two strolled up the garden, hand in hand--she speaking
of the lateness of the hour, and he of the loveliness of the moon and
stars, until night, moon, and stars, were all forgotten.

After a few moments' silence, Jones suddenly paused, and, pressing her
hand in both of his, said--

"Marion, I would we might never part. I never leave you without pain."

"I