of wealth, might contract the circle of her ambition; and she would no make her son's marriage a shrine. longer wish to sacrifice at its When this image of possible felicity grew painful, from the reflection that its real foundation was laid in the humbled fortunes of those she loved, she strove to soften its harsher features, by tints and shades borrowed from the more grateful reflection, that when she became one of this now afflicted family, it would not only be in her power to alleviate their sorrows, but she would, as it were, acquire a title to do so. "Yes!" she would exclaim, at the end of one of her reveries, "the portion which my dear uncle has declared his intention of bestowing upon me in marriage, will be amply sufficient for all of us to be happy; save and except," she would add, with a heavy sigh, "that it would not suffice to release that excellent man from prison. Ah! but perhaps his persecutors may relent, and then, how exquisite, to see myself at once the wife of Cameron and the source of happiness to those he loves!" It happened that she had been indulging in one of these gladdening visions just before she sat down to answer a letter of Cameron's; and under its joyous influence she could not refrain from glancing at it, as a possible occurrence out of which present consolation might be extracted. Cameron was sensibly touched; but love is a wayward, and pride a selfish passion; and both took the alarm. "I will not marry her money," quoth Love. "Neither I nor my family shall live upon her bounty," exclaimed Pride. "Yet she is a dear, noble-minded creature," whispered Truth. "And you do her a gross wrong," added Conscience," to suppose that she wants you either to marry her money or live upon her bounty." His reply was tinctured with all these feelings; or rather, it exhibited, throughout, a struggle for mastery between them. In the end, however, Pride gained a cold and haughty triumph; for after pouring forth many tender acknowledgments of her pure and exalted affection, and even yielding to some of the blissful anticipations that had diffused their sunny hue over her own letter, he abruptly concluded with these words: "No, Caroline,-I was not permitted to offer you my hand when it would have conferred a fortune; I will not do so now, when it is stripped of one." Poor Caroline bathed the letter with her tears, and sighed to think, that wealth and poverty should be equally her enemies; that there was a time when she was considered too poor to mate with the heir of Azledine Hall; and that time had since made her too rich to do so. CHAPTER XII. What wilt thou do? For shame! persist no more Old Play. A WEEK or two after Cameron had despatched his letter, and just as he was beginning to feel exceedingly uneasy at receiving no reply, he was surprised one morning by Aston's servant bringing him a card, which bore the name of General Neville. "Show him up," said Aston. "Not so fast," interrupted Cameron, his cheek losing its colour, and his lip quivering. 66 Why, what's the matter, man? I shall delight in once more shaking the fine old soldier by the hand." "What did he say," inquired Cameron of the servant," when he gave you this card ?" "Nothing, sir, except desiring me to take it up stairs." "How is he dressed? 66 Really I did not notice, sir." "Is he in mourning?" "In mourning?" repeated the servant, as if trying to recollect. mourning, sir, I think —” "Now you mention "It is so!" interruped Cameron, rising from his chair in the greatest agitation. 66 My dear fellow," cried Aston, "what does all this mean?" The servant quitted the room, and Cameron, clasping the hand of his friend, exclaimed, in a voice choked with grief, " Caroline is dead!" "God forbid!" The next moment the door opened, and General Neville entered, in a full suit of scarlet and gold. Aston smiled at his friend, as he passed him to receive the General's extended hand. When the first salutations were over, and before the conversation could turn to any other subject, General Neville addressed Aston. “Mr. Aston,” said he, "I shall perhaps have a favour to ask of you; but it will depend upon what treatment I receive from this gentleman; and a very few words will be suffi |