was all Emma knew of the nominal head of the house. Her monotonous course of life was only broken by an occasional letter from Mrs. Wiley; and Emma's heart sometimes throbbed almost to bursting, from the utter destitution of companionship, but she felt self-dependent. Dence was an important part of the lesson that was set. her, favored child of fortune that she had been, and she tried to be not merely submissive but cheerful. She had no acquaintance that went beyond a passing salutation; for so well had her conduct fallen in with Mrs. Olden's policy, that few had called upon her, and a mere interchange of visits had taken place with them. Many of The young men had made attempts to be introduced to the beautiful stranger, and some had succeeded, but she was never to be seen in the Olden's parlor, seldom in the street, so that finally they began to regard her as something to be wondered at but not approached. Thus Time rolled on till autumn deepened into winter. softened into spring, and the richness of summer mellowed into early fall. Emma had been more than a year with the Olden's, and had become nearly reconciled. to her mode of life, when a little accident occurred, which, as trifling as it would have appeared at another time, seemed now of consequence from its novelty.
The ladies of the place had for some time been talking of a picnic in a neighboring wood, and the lovely The weather in September determined them to put their project into execution. Emma heard the party discussed. as a thing in which she had no concern, and, as usual, aided the young ladies in planning their dresses, but Her consternation was great when the day before the party, Letheresa insisted on her going, that she might sing a certain duet with her. Mrs. Olden was unwilling and thought some other song would answer, but The young lady was obstinate, and as Emma had proved herself so harmless, Mama withdrew her objections. Emma's feelings were, of course, not respected. Her appearance created much surprise, and a number of Her would-be admirers made her agreeable assiduously. Emma, having gone, thought it ridiculous to appear. otherwise than cheerful, and allowed the balmy air and lovely scenery to have their full influence on her feelings, and though she declined dancing, Mrs. Olden had the mortification to see she was decidedly the belle of the party, and feared the year's work was undone by that. single afternoon. Her manners became exceedingly harsh and even insulting; Emma began to suspect the cause, and unwilling to cause displeasure or subject herself to mortification, told one of the young ladies she would wait for them to take her up at a farm house in the vicinity, as she did not feel inclined to remain longer. As the duet had been sung, her absence was a matter of indifference, and separating herself from the group, she strolled through a little screen of wood, reaching the farmhouse, requested permission to sit in a little garden bower till she was called for. She soon recovered the serenity of her feelings, somewhat ruffled by Mrs. Olden's speeches, but found her thoughts would not be forced from a mournful, though not repining contemplation of the past. Thus, an hour or two passed. by, and as the sun touched the horizon, the carriages of The returning villagers began to roll past. At length that of the Olden's came in sight, and Emma went to the roadside that she might cause no delay. As it drew near, she perceived her corner of the front seat occupied by a gentleman, who, with his back toward She was talking to Rosalinda. Mrs. Olden called out,
"Miss Benson, you must walk home; I have no room. for you. Drive on."
Emma felt nervous and excitable from the long, sad musing she had been indulging, and while her cheek flushed, a tear trembled in her eye. The fear that the A vulgar-minded woman should observe her agitation. absorbed all other feelings, and bending her head to arrange her shawl, she made no reply. But the gentleman in the carriage, on hearing the speech, sprang forward, saying, "Is it possible I am depriving a lady of her seat. Excuse me, Mrs. Olden, I cannot think of availing myself of your politeness,” bade the man stop, and springing out was by Emma's side in a moment. How can we describe her astonishment when she beheld Charles Delancey. His agitation equaled hers. When he saw one, he thought it was lost to him forever. once more before him. Mrs. Olden finds that Emma was an acquaintance of the elegant stranger. now urged her to get in, as they could make room for both, but Delancey protested that he could not think of so greatly inconveniencing them, and as the evening was so lovely, if Miss Benson would permit him to escort her home, he would take the opportunity to give her the latest news of her friends, and avail himself of Mrs. Olden's polite invitation to spend the evening with them. Mrs. Olden bit her lip but could make no objection, and Emma, having seen that several of the party had been tempted to walk, as the distance was not much over a mile, made none either, and Charles Delancey drew her arm within his with feelings, not the less happy that he had heard Letheresa's malicious loud whisper, "So this is the Charles Delancey whose card you keep." He stole a glance at Emma, but her deeply dyed cheeks made him instantly avert his eyes. and endeavor to appear unconscious of the whisper.
We will not describe that lingering walk, nor the modes adopted by Delancey to secure interviews with Emma, whose position in the family he soon comprehended, but we will claim our privilege as biographers, and give an excerpt from a confidential letter written to his sister, a lovely woman residing on the Hudson River.
"And now, dear Julia, that I have given you a history of my adventure up to my arrival at this beautiful, but
