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the city, and as the aunt was an old friend of the manager's lady, they had accepted her invitation to avail themselves of the stage box-and thus the difficulty of their being without a protector was got over.

"It was Edith's passionate love for music," said the aunt when she was convalescent, and had been able to descend to the drawing-room to thank Beauchampe, "which induced me to consent to this arrangement. We wished to remain as secluded as possible, but the dear child has ever been so kind to me that I could not deny her. And even now I do not regret it although it has cost me a broken arm."

Beauchampe had never thought to ask if Miss Wareham was fond of music, although he had noticed a harp standing in one corner of the room. He now petitioned for a song, and Edith modestly complied. As she bent over the instrument, displaying the full sweep of her magnificent neck and shoulders, while her azure eyes, humid with the emotions which the song awakened, were raised to heaven, Beauchampe thought, and justly, that he had never seen anything so lovely. She seemed another St. Cecelia, rapt with her own celestial thoughts. When the song ceased words failed him to express his admiration.

CHAPTER IV.

BEAUCHAMPE thought no longer of America, or of aught except Edith. He saw that she was such a one as he had often pictured to himself, but despaired of finding. She looked on everything with the eye of an enthusiast. Her heart seemed, in its warmth, to take in the whole universe. All things, in nature, were to her beauty and incense. For the first time, in his life, Beauchampe had met one with whom his soul could hold communion unreserved. His visits daily grew longer, and daily seemed. more acceptable to Edith ; until, at his entrance, her heart would beat quicker and the truant blood rush into her cheek. These signs met the eye of the lover and filled him with joy unutterable. Could it indeed be that she, whom he had worshipped so long at a distance, returned his love ? Or was it not rather bliss too extatic to be real? Yet the glad smile with which Edith met him assured him that her heart was his own. Oh ! how delicious were the hours they spent together. Books, music and conversation occupied their time, unless when silence, that bliss of love, would steal down on their souls. This could not continue long without a mutual revelation of feeling, and Beauchampe one evening seized the opportunity of a momentary tête-à-tête to express his passion. The trembling and blushing Edith murmured a scarce audible assent to his impassioned declaration, and her lover catching her in his arms, imprinted his first kiss on her glowing cheek. Let it not be supposed that Beauchampe had deceived

his betrothed as to his fortune. It is true that, in the intoxication of his earlier acquaintance, he had wholly forgotten the clause in his uncle's will, by which he forfeited the estate, but he soon found that neither Edith nor her aunt knew of his expectations, and therefore when, on the morning after the scene we have just described, he asked Mrs. Wareham, as the protector of Edith, for the hand of her neice, he did not disguise from her that his fortune amounted to only a paltry five hundred a year, such being the income left to him by his uncle in case he refused to marry the lady to whom he had been betrothed. He expressed his determination, however, to adopt a profession at once, and with the sanguine hopes of youth, declared that in four years at furthest he would be able to claim his bride. The cooler years of Mrs. Wareham led her to be less sanguine of his immediate success, but he pleaded so fervently that she was at length forced to give a half consent. She promised that, while Beauchampe visited America, she would not interdict a correspondence betwixt the lovers ; and that, if at the termination of the four years, Edith and Beauchampe should both remain unchanged, she would then consent to their union. But she would not permit any engagement at present. "You are both young, my dear Mr. Beauchampe, and four years may work a great change in your feelings. You have hitherto enjoyed a handsome allowance, and lived in the expectation of a still more handsome fortune. You have never yet-pardon me for saying it— acquired those habits of business which are necessary to one who has to make his own fortune ; and, although now the unceasing toil of a profession seems light to you, yet your opinions may change, understand me I only say may. I speak frankly, as I would to my own child, for you have deeply interested me. Perhaps age has taught me to be less sanguine than you-at least it has acquainted me with the weaknesses of human nature." There was much in this which grated harshly on Beauchampe ; and yet nothing at which he could be offended. There was wisdom in every word which Mrs. Wareham had uttered, but a wisdom which seemed to the romantic lover a cold and almost repulsive prudence. His good sense had to acknowledge that she was right, although his heart would fain have pronounced her wrong. "If such is your resolution," he said, " I must obey, although with a heavy heart. But you shall see that you judge me harshly." "Not so, my dear young friend. I confess my heart is with you, but as the protector of Edith I must act with the world's prudence, if I would save myself from reproach. And in what do I oppose you ? I permit you to correspond-you will thus constantly commune together-you say you will visit England once a year, -and at any hour you may claim Edith. At the same