the effects of this withering blow—and never forget it! Hereafter—You smile Mrs. Graham," said I, suddenly stopping short, checked in my passionate declamation by unutterable feelings to behold her actually smiling at the picture of the ruin she had wrought.
"Did I?" replied she, looking seriously up, "I was not aware of it. If I did, it was not for pleasure at the thoughts of the harm I had done you.—Heaven knows I have had torment enough at the bare possibility of that!—it was for joy to find that you had some depth of soul and feeling after all, and to hope that I had not been utterly mistaken in your worth. But smiles and tears are so alike with me; they are neither of them confined to any particular feelings: I often cry when I am happy, and smile when I am sad."
She looked at me again, and seemed to expect a reply; but I continued silent.
"Would you be very glad," resumed she, "to find that you were mistaken in your conclusions?"
