ps of dew; and as she glided with unstudied grace among those
who sought to know more of her, she gained the name of "the
gentle star."

It was yet early in the evening. Sauntering along one of the principal
streets were two young men, engaged in conversation. We will listen
awhile, for we may be interested.

"Do you go to Santon's to-night, Delwood?" asked the younger of the two,
who was far less prepossessing in appearance than his companion.

"Umph,--yes," replied the other, in a more reserved tone. "Do you make
one of the number?"

"You don't know Dick Montague if you think he would miss of such an
occasion. Wit and beauty do not hold forth every night. Old Santon has
but one daughter, you know."

Mr. Delwood made no reply to these coarse remarks, for nothing could
have been in greater contrast, than the refined, gentlemanly nature of
Mr. Delwood, to that of young Montague, whom we recognize as the same
gentleman (if such young men who wear two faces, putting aside the
decorum of intelligent society, for the rude jests and unrefined
manners of other associates, can be called gentlemen,) who had attracted
Mrs. Santon's notice by his frequent visits to her daughter. Before
proceeding farther, we will give our patient reader a little insight to
the history of these two personages, whom we consider of sufficient note
in our simple narrative, for inducing us to tear ourselves away, for a
little while, from the attractions at Santon Mansion.

Clarence Delwood belonged to one of the most aristocratic families in
Boston. He was an only son, upon whom had been bestowed all of those
advantages which are to be derived from a princely fortune. At the early
age of twenty-two he had graduated at one of the first institutions in
Paris, where he had been placed by his haughty, overbearing father, who
looked upon things American as low and vulgar. The son had not inherited
that proud, unyielding spirit of his father, yet he was like him,
inasmuch as he possessed the same dignified, reserved manner, the which,
having called forth the startling declaration from manoeuvering mothers,
and languishing daughters, that "Mr. Clarence Delwood would look farther
than Boston for a bride." So they had folded their gossamer wings with
resignation, receiving his polite attentions with pleasure, yet never
being able to penetrate the reserve which hung around him. To say that
our hero was handsome, would be saying but little, for one often me