more confirmed in this first impression ; and, after a
fortnight's sojourn at West Point, where Miss Belvoir
had been passing the summer, Stanley became completely in love. Nor was Ellen less enamored of the
young officer, whose gallant bearing attracted every eye,
and whose services in the field had already won for him
an enviable name. When, therefore, Stanley proposed
for her hand, Ellen accepted it, for she was an orphan,
an heiress, and already in possession of her property.
It was arranged that the marriage should take place the
ensuing winter.
The lovers at length parted, but only for two short months, preparatory to their marriage. Business called the lieutenant to Washington , while his affianced bride, accompanied by her cousin, returned to Boston, by the way of Albany.
It was at the close of a hot, sultry day that the carriage in which they travelled drew up at a neat public house, in one of those quiet villages which are scattered through Massachusetts. They had journeyed the whole day through the mountains, and the sight of the white inn, with its green venetian shutters, and its pretty garden in the rear, all betokening the tidiness of the owner, was peculiarly refreshing to the travellers. The pleasant looking widow lady who met them at the door, increased their delight with the place.
"A sweet village, you have here," said the gentleman on alighting, as he followed the landlady to a small but exquisitely neat parlor.
"Yes sir, although it is small," answered the landlady-" it is rarely that we have many strangers visiting here, and so the place is much as it was in the days of our fathers." There was something in the low, sweet modulated tone of the speaker which made the interrogator start. Surely that voice belonged to no common inkeeper's widow. There was that finish in the tones which is the surest evidence of a refined mind. His cousin seemed to notice this also, for when the landlady had retired, she said, "Our hostess is certainly above the common orderone would almost think she had been born a lady and transformed by some malignant genius into a common inkeeper's widow." " She is obviously a woman of education-perhaps some one whom distress has driven to this business for a livelihood. She has not always kept an inn, be assured, coz." "Still, nothing ought to have induced her to stoop to so degrading an occupation," said his fair cousin, her prejudices at once taking alarm, “ there are ways enough in which an impoverished lady can obtain a livelihood, without resorting to the trade of an inkeeper. Pshaw ! coz, you are wrong, after all-the fact of her having adopted this business is a sufficient proof that she is no VOL. I.- 16
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lady," and she gave a somewhat haughty toss of her head as she spoke. When, after an hour's rest, they met at supper, they were ushered into a neat room, a door from which opened into an apartment beyond, apparently a bed room. This door was ajar, disclosing a portrait hanging on an opposite wall. The light in this inner apartment was somewhat dim, but Ellen could distinguish that the picture represented a young man in uniform, and a second glance assured her that the portrait was that of her affianced lover. She started, and looked again. But she could not be deceived. The broad brow, the searching eye, the whole cast of countenance was that of her lover. The landlady noticed her emotion with some surprise, and as she sat down to do the honors of the table, looked to Ellen for an explanation. Miss Belvoir, fearing that her agitation had been noticed, said. "Pray, if not too inquisitive, may I ask whose portrait I see within there. It bears a striking resemblance to one I have known well." "It is the portrait of my son," quietly answered the | landlady, but a proud smile lit up her face, as if she was conscious of the worth of him of whom she spoke. "And his name ?" breathlessly asked Ellen. "Edward Stanley," was the response, " he has been on the frontier for years, and but lately returned. His first visit," continued the fond mother, with pride, " was paid to me, and on his departure he sent that portrait to me." " Do you know where he is now ?" asked Ellen , concealing, by a violent effort, the interest she felt in the reply. "At Washington, I believe-he wrote me about a fortnight since from West Point, stating that he should have to visit Washington soon on business. Is your tea, Miss, agreeable ?" she continued, suddenly recollecting that, in her fondness for her child, she had forgotten the duties of her station. Shall we picture the struggle that took place in the mind of Ellen that night after she had retired ? Her cousin, little thinking of the effect it was to produce, had bantered her on her love for the landlady's son, and had thus aroused prejudices which only her affection had hitherto kept down. What ! should she, the proud, the gifted, the high born, wed the son of a village landlady ? Long she lay and thought of it, and every moment her pride grew stronger, so that, although at first her love had struggled for the mastery, her pride of birth eventually came off victor. Perhaps she had never loved with that single-heartedness which is a true woman's jewel-but so it was- she rose, the ensuing morning, determined to break off the match with her lover. She resolved , however, not to apprize him of her determination until she reached Boston.
