g creature, leaning with an air of tender
confidence upon the arm of her companion, and looking earnestly in his
face. She was a little above the ordinary stature, with a form so
delicate as to appear almost fragile, a pure semi-transparent skin, and
a cheek--

"Like the apple-tree blossom,
By the dew-fountain fed,
Was the bloom of her cheek,
With its white and its red."

Eyes of heaven's own blue beamed with love and delight, as they
wandered over the frank, honest face of the young man, who stood
looking down into them, as they reflected back his own image. He could
not love himself without harm to himself, but he could gaze on, and
love to gaze for ever upon the image of himself pictured in those dear
eyes, and yet be innocent.

"Love you, Ellen? How can she help loving you?"

"I do not know why any one should love me," was the artless reply.

"I do not know how any one can help loving you."

"Ah, you may think so, but every one does not see with your eyes; and
maybe, you are only blinded. I am not perfect, Charles; don't forget
that."

"You are perfect to me, and that is all I ask. But say, Ellen, dear,
sha'n't we be married in a month?"

"I am so young, Charles; and then I ought to be certain that your
mother is willing. Does she know all about it? You have written to her,
have you not?"

The young man did not reply for some moments. Then he said--"Never
fear, Ellen; my mother will love you as her own child, when she sees
and knows you. I have not written about you to her, because, as I must
tell you, my mother, though one of the best of women, is a little proud
of her standing in society. The moment I write to her on the subject,
she will have a dozen grave questions to ask about your family, and
whether they are connected with this great personage or that--questions
that I despair of answering, in a letter, to her satisfaction. But your
dear face will explain all, and stop all inquiries, when I present you
to her as my wife."

"Don't be so certain of that, Charles. If your mother is proud of her
family, she will be mortified and displeased should her son marry an
unknown girl."

"The proudest mother on earth would receive you into her bosom, and
call you daughter, without an emotion of wounded pride," was the
lover's confident reply. "I know it. I know my mother too well, not to
be confident on this subject."

"You ought to know, Charles; but I would much rather be certain. I love
you b