gown, and a bright bunch of keys, descended the steep step-ladder from the trap in the tower, and walked into the room adjoining. Then two hands commenced wringing themselves, by which we may understand that Augusta was in great tribulation. The rumor, rife in Little-Crampton, had reached her ears, and her brother had confirmed its truth. The very means employed to keep him out of danger had only assisted the other party to carry him off. This should be a warning to those who interfere with affairs of the heart. But what was her own future? Certainly her reign was at an end; a new queen-bee was to take possession of the hive; and then—what then? kings and kaisers, even, are not free from the exquisite anguish which, in that hour, oppressed the heart of Augusta Belgrave. It was but a step; but what a step? from mistress to menial, from ruler to subordinate. She knelt down heavily by the bedside, and there prayed; but—oh! the goodness of woman's heart!—it was a prayer, earnest, sincere, truthful, and humble; not for herself, but for her brothers. Then her heart was lightened and strengthened; and as she rose, she smiled with a bitter sweetness, that, considering every thing, was beautiful.
Great preparations now in Little-Crampton for the wedding. Invitations were out, and needles, scissors, flowers, laces, ribbons, and mantua-makers at a premium. The Captain took heart of grace, and called upon his lovely bride, but always managed to get past that lane before night-fall. Hood & Wessup, the fashionable tailors of Little-Crampton, were suborned to lay themselves out night and day upon his wedding-suit. He had set his heart upon having Adolphus dressed precisely like himself on the occasion. Two brothers dressed alike, groom and groomsman, look remarkably well at a wedding. But to his surprise, Adolphus refused to be dressed, and would not go to the wedding—"positively." Neither would Augusta. Brother and sister set to work packing up, and when the expected night arrived there was all their little stock in two, blue, wooden trunks, locked, and corded, and ready for moving, in the hall of the Oakery.
It was a gloomy night outside and in, for the rain had been falling all day, and a cold rain-storm in summer is dreary enough. But
