opes of her?"

"Entirely; in fact, I'm engaged."

"Then you have no objections to my addressing this dear, romantic
angel?"

"None whatever. But I see my _fiancee_--excuse me--I must walk through
the next quadrille with her."

Frank Belmont was a stranger in Boston--a New Yorker--immensely rich
and fashionable, but his reputation had not preceded him, and Charley
Hastings was the only man who knew him in New England. He procured an
introduction to the beauty from one of the managers, and soon danced
and talked himself into her good graces. In fact, it was a clear case
of love at first sight on both sides.

The enamoured pair were sitting apart, enjoying a most delightful
_tete-a-tete_. Suddenly Belmont heaved a deep sigh.

"Why do you sigh, Mr. Belmont?" asked the fair Julia, somewhat pleased
with this proof of sensibility. "Is not this a gay scene?"

"Alas! yes," replied Belmont, gloomily; "but fate does not permit me
to mingle habitually in scenes like this. They only make my ordinary
life doubly gloomy--and even here I deem to see the shadow of a fiend
waving me away. What right have I to be here?"

"What fiend do you allude to?" asked Miss Heathcote, with increasing
interest.

"A fiend hardly presentable in good society," replied Belmont,
bitterly. "One could tolerate a Mephistophiles--a dignified fiend,
with his pockets full of money--but my tormentor, if personified,
would appear with seedy boots and a shocking bad hat."

"How absurd!"

"It is too true," sighed Belmont, "and the name of this fiend is
_Poverty_!"

"Are you poor?"

"Yes, madam. I am poor, and when I would fain render myself agreeable
in the eyes of beauty--in the eyes of one I could love, this fiend
whispers me, 'Beware! you have nothing to offer her but love in a
cottage.'"

"Mr. Belmont," said Julia, with sparkling eyes, and a voice of unusual
animation, "although there are sordid souls in this world, who only
judge of the merits of an individual by his pecuniary possessions, I
am not one of that number. I respect poverty; there is something
highly poetical about it, and I imagine that happiness is oftener
found in the humble cottage than beneath the palace roof."

Belmont appeared enchanted with this encouraging avowal. The next
day, after cautioning his friend Charley to say nothing of his actual
circumstances, he called on the widow Heathcote and her fair daughter
in the character of the "poor gentleman." The widow had very